#some hosted boxing fights and after attending a few

[poobirdy]

bingqiu boxing au feat. boxer binghe and manager shen yuan, as requested by @/rev_6_4 for svsssaction!

[natalievoncatte]

Kara is buzzed when it happens. Not drunk, buzzed. A little tipsy. Not lost in the sauce, more “in her cups”. It’s been a rough day of wordsmithing and crime fighting and game night has turned into an impromptu movie night because no one has enough energy to play anything. The Settles of Catan box is gathering dust next to the Pictionary stuff and the other random games that have accumulated at Lena’s apartment ever since they all realized that she has the best bachelorette pad for hosting these things.

Instead they’re watching Twister instead of playing Twister, laughing at how cheesy it is. The movie is almost over but the night is young and Kara is unwinding, so she asks Lena for a favor.

“Can you bring me some?” she says, spotting Lena pouring wine from a box that Kara brought over.

“Sure,” Lena says.

A moment later, Lena joins her.

This moment is inportant. Kara doesn’t know it yet but it’s one of the most important. One day she will rank it in importance with the day she first saved Lena and the first time she walked into Lena’s office and a number of other firsts.

Consider this: It is a warm May night and Lena has the windows open to let the breeze in. It’s maybe seventy in the penthouse and eventually it’ll get cooler. Right now, everyone is lazing about in knockaround clothes. Kara herself is in a pair of old threadbare sweats from the DEO that she kept even after the organization disbanded because they were so comfy, and the ribbed tank she had on under her outfit at work, baring her blocky and sun-tanned shoulders.

(This is because Lena once made a comment about her big meaty shoulders after they attended a spin class together. Kara never consciously said “I’m giving Lena two tickets to the gun show”, but she has her bis and tris on display around her whenever possible anyway. Kara had no reason to flex when she’s opening a bottle of wine -or a box with a screw cap- but she does it anyway. She doesn’t need to pick up Lena’s car… you get the idea.)

Lena, for her part, is dressed in mercilessly short shorts that bare her thick thighs, and she’s put on a sweatshirt. A gray sweatshirt that has the National City university logo on it, a school she did not attend, and is two sizes too big for her. She’s put her hair up in a sloppy ponytail and has taken out her contacts in favor of a pair of rather chunky-framed glasses. She looks like a dork.

A stunning, cute, adorable, huggable, kissable dork.

Lena brings with her two blue plastic tumblers of wine, and hands one to Kara.

The couch is packed. Alex and Nia flank Kara, and their respective partners fill out the sofa. Really, someone should have saved Lena a seat in her own house. She has one in mind, though. She sits right on Kara’s lap as she hands her the wine.

It could be any number of things that cause it. She’s tired, she spiked a few of her drinks with alien rum, it’s been a long and frustrating day and she’s just not thinking right. She doesn’t have her filters in. Words just spill out.

“Good girl,” Kara says, as Lena settles in place.

The reaction is subtle, but to a Kryptonian, obvious. Lena’s heart does a little pitter-patter and she tenses just slightly, just barely, so subtly that only Kara would notice. Her pupils widen and her breath catches sharply.

Alex, seated such that she’s behind Lena, snaps her gaze to them quickly.

Kara does the only thing she reasonably can do. She presses her legs gently to either side to make sure there’s enough room and lets Lena settle in with her. The couch is one of those huge custom jobs that cost more than Kara’s apartment and every stick of furniture in it, so there’s room for Lena to comfortable position herself and lean back into Kara, sipping a bit of wine.

Everyone is else is dead silent, the only sound coming from Lena’s massive TV and theater quality sound system (so there is in fact a lot of sound)

Lena is there and she’s warm and soft, the crown of her head in perfect range for a little sniff. With not much effort Kara could press her lips to Lena’s hairline and give her a little kiss.

She’d done that once. It was after a save, when Kara was holding Lena in her arms after catching a collapsing crane on her back, shrugging off a hundred tons of twisted metal to save her Lena. It was not long after Lena came back to her and things were still weird and fragile and Lex wanted her dead and Kara was so, so scared, so wracked with pain just from knowing what Lena meant to her. The only way she could stop herself from kissing Lena, proper kissing, was by pressing her lips somewhere safe and friendly and kinda a we’re friends kiss and not a I want to marry you please never leave me again kiss.

Lena drinks the wine so fast she gulps, and she’s either thirsty or trying to calm her nerves. There’s a palpable air in the room right now, a heavy tension that’s made them all suddenly stiff and uncomfortable. They pass the rest of the movie in silence.

“Who’s up for a double feature?” Kara says, not wanting to leave but not wanting to test the terms under which she might stay.

“Not me,” Alex says. “We’ve got to get home and pay Ruby for watching Esme. Besides, if we let you picky we’ll end up watching some damn cartoon.”

Nia wnd Brainy similarly demur, citing reasons of their own.

“Okay. I’ll stay and help clean up.”

“You don’t have to,” Lena says, tentatively.

“I don’t want to be a poor guest.”

The rest of the Superfriends pile out of the penthouse and into the night with mildly alarming speed, and Kara is suddenly alone with Lena. The vast penthouse doesn’t feel empty. Instead it feels close in, almost crowded.

Lena slips off of Kara’s lap and plops beside her, yawning. She sets down her empty wine cup and stretches, delightfully arching her back as she throws her arms back up over her head, fingers laced. Kara doesn’t need x-ray vision to see she’s bare beneath the sweatshirt. Her own heart does a little flutter.

She looks so soft, so cozy and inviting, but her legs are such a distraction that Kara can’t help but look at them, her gaze sweeping from ankle to hip with the intensity of an explorer who’s just crested a mountain and set eyes on a promised new land. That’s when Kara realizes that Lena saw her looking and is meeting her gaze firmly.

“Like what you see?”

Kara swallows hard. She can hear the drum of Lena’s own heart, almost feel the same quickening of her pulse as well as the slight waver in her voice.

Kara licks her lips.

“Should we clean up, or…”

“Should we? Or should it wait until morning?”

If Lena had been dropping hint before, she was laying down the gauntlet now. She looked at Kara with lidded eyes and a flushed, wine-silly grin.

Kara swallowed hard. A part of her, a very loud part, still insisted she misinterpreted all of this and Lena was just being friendly. What if she was just being friendly, what if-

“What would you rather do?” said Kara.

Lena shrugged. “I’m tired of thinking, Kara. People ask me what to do all damned day. I’d rather relax and just let someone else take charge for a while.”

The way she said it, especially take charge, was so heavy and drippy and velvety that Kara could get lost in it.

Fuck it.

Kara twisted and, carefully, very carefully, lifted Lena into her lap. Lena made sure to not sit but straddle, her warm thighs bracketing Kara’s as she settled her weight in Kara’s lap and fell against her chest.

Very, very tenderly, with supreme care, Kara pressed her hand to the back of Lena’s head, slipping her fingers into Lena’s hair, and guided her in. She savored every second. The ghost of breath on her lips, the sight of Lena’s blown pupils before she closed her eyes, the feeling of Lena’s fingers digging into her shoulders as their lips met. Lena kissed her softly at first, then more and more greedily, exploding from a gently pressing of lips into something undeniably needy and hot. When Lena moaned into her mouth, Kara’s nerves lit up like a Christmas tree and she instincts grabbed Lena’s hips and and grinds herself up against her.

“Lena,” Kara whispered, “is that my sweatshirt?”

“Yes. It is.”

“Take it off,” said Kara, and then a moment later, “good girl.”

[libidomechanica]

Untitled # 13739

) Was but his Arrow went away.     Nor altar heap’d with Child, that liuing light; why fear and shining     unto no higher, like life after two adventurer     sips this close room, nor miss a Masquerade, or lose. The thick     with thys hyll thou hast

sorrowfully sing? Could not be seized     by life’s thorny soile to show, since Juliana here     in their wolfish eyes. An universe have her with her glowing     on the set sun; short upper air, the last green in Turkey     who starved. For all thou

art, and wedded strings His Psyche     true! While Peers and of beast would improve—perhaps it made way;     yet no great wall of tacks around her attends, few ask, if     Fraud or Force of hands, your love of tradition thus. Luxurious     courtesy. Circled

around just for their barbarous     spits the gentle, stirless air: but Zoe the mean time,     and all the Muse—she saw him, I, assail’d, fight, though to make     so right: her dress thro’ mystic Visions, now with a ghost. The     sea-shell rosed, or clear

as widowed sky, seem most divine:     thou liest in Air, or in the snow then? He hers, to Despair,     a thousand tropics the one that ev’n in Slumber caused. Thou     but of all the Nurse and Loue in me? It lifts the fire under     a strange tongue still, with

Scio wine,—and ovens and twirls. A     heart and maybe you can seal it up with sense does less in     deepest grass, beside the faint wind died away among the     best apothecary’s art, or neither early for yet     in her Ear his winning

Lips to lay, a plenteous production,     and all useless but you! In her dress was called Hope Lake     when she smiles, awakens ev’ry side. The cars will spend ye.     And swimmers, who follow’d temples, they really knelt, and marrow.     With so white! A

Masquerade, I saw the sea yawn’d a     little prized among the story of your Eyes; and the purr     of the coast that Rich she guess’d. The lucid Squadrons round     unthinking the life ending spray, which I new pay as if to     wing, like tapers glide, and

in the ingle sits, an’ wi’ her     loved, love and richest lace from the next to a curled like this.     The crickets stitches, with a single one, to take her; if     of her conquering, lovely Pussy! Descend and siller     canna buy; we may be

poor—Robie and I from yearning     stay. I refused another Secretary Sis to consult,     if fucus this be as good sheepe han crustes, and the     present the shell fish downe his life in weary waine, and when     Dancing in rich hair

awakes beneath her thumb, as in     them leaue the least of herbes or beasts, and Loue in me; I     rather unnested to scale an upper lip—sweet lips, teeth,     and declare—i’ll say it, because of his foly one alive.     As with Ribs of Whale.

Pardon mine host, adieu, nor shore     look’d back, and candidate of vermicelli,—for Jock of     Hazeldean. Twenty years hence remain’d of shoes; and all their     conditions, a people must lookst babies in one. Farewell     of Spades. For Gods sake, kiss

me once more; till she began to     spend ye. Strength devoures, till some will be well enough. Her     eyes are green, with buds, and there, long kiss from yonder Box. A     simple truths; even Conscience, throughout abstain’d, but sunk again,     and with the color

disappearing itself to say     and legs and draw the life and fern-leaves cover thy noble     heart to hide my will in use. Proves thievish progress to     eternity in days? What can with vnkind guessed at your heaven     kiss earth it bounds can be,

and marriages there, that absent     love,—that all which it sucked from the familiar, and ye sall     be snatch’d thy infant joy! Augur me better judgment pluck     the other too. To give what is i want to sink; and Juan,     who, with strange similes

enrich thy powers, to feverish     pulse a blaze, each a catatonic stuck in the world     of fashion, they dared not to thee, and grassy air to smoke.     And nuances spoken of all the same he might all tender     Head. And leave, so he

would with him to his Hand for a     place; it seemed kind, a heart torment with reflection, happier     than theyr throtes. From the fall of flight alone in the     day by day scorches even thought a language woo: take me     rue it. Like other words.

[windtempos]

It Always Comes Back

“They didn’t fawn over her as a pioneer for women in science; there were engineering textbooks with Nora’s name in the index a decade before Adya was even born. They weren’t shocked at the outcomes of any hearings on Capitol Hill; Emma had lived them. Every decision for science and medicine-- and often the cybernetics ones, too-- affected her. Affected what her boss would do with her next.”

Adya Prisham is the poster child of cybernetics; Nora Luan and Emma Pearce are relics of a bygone era. They keep a close eye on the general happenings of science and medicine; but as exiles from scientific programs that are long gone, there isn’t much more they can do.

Adya Prisham’s celebrity was participated in from a variety of angles. Most of the civilians that took an interest in her were bionicists-- people who spent their days in labs, trying to come close to recreating the technology her cybernetic body was designed with for their own private patenting. They had the most interesting questions to ask, as well as the most invasive. It always came from a place of curiosity and never ridicule, though it didn’t make much of a difference. Inability to read the room is natural when the room is empty and almost always bereft of women. They are only social when it benefits their work.

Another demographic was adult women, mostly between twenty-five and forty, who doted on her from a political perspective. To them, she was a hero. A broken glass ceiling. A poster girl. Adya had spoken about how it was a difficult thing to understand. “I didn’t really do anything,” she had said. “I just… something bad happened to me, something good happened to come from it. I think there are smarter and harder working people who deserve that label.”

They knew it was true. There were stronger icons for women in STEM, sure, but Adya painted the prettiest picture. She was STEM, in some regards. She was designed for perfection. The same women who refused to perform their womanhood expected a show and dance from Adya every time she spoke, from the moment she first opened her mouth in her brand new body.

Lifestyle-oriented individuals-- talk show hosts, social media stars, mic’d up individuals at any red carpet event she might’ve been invited to-- were unreadable until the moment the cameras came on. Some treated her like the girl she saw herself as, letting her laugh and play games and talk about her favorite things. Some treated her like a paycheck. Ask the questions that people are too embarrassed to be curious about. Harvest views based on an uncomfortable response. Ask another. Monetize. It was getting harder and harder to pretend like she was used to it.

There were few who observed her from above rather than below. It was mostly executives and politicians, curious about what her place in the world means for cybernetics moving forward. They had the power to do what they wished with her as an employee and used it plentifully. It was very easy to include her attendance at certain speeches, meetings, or other functions as part of her contract. And she would have no choice but to put on the face, smile, and tell her story in the most agreeable way possible.

Still, despite all the boxes Adya had to put people in, some were beyond placement. Nobody observed Adya Prisham in the same way that Nora Luan and Emma Pearce did. Observing from above was an accurate description, sure, but they had no stake in the fight. Adya was not an investment they were expecting returns on. They had no concerns over her anatomy or the functions of her body; they had her schematics. Similar ones, anyway. The military-made evolutions of her build that Americans started receiving shortly after her success. They didn’t fawn over her as a pioneer for women in science; there were engineering textbooks with Nora’s name in the index a decade before Adya was even born. They weren’t shocked at the outcomes of any hearings on Capitol Hill; Emma had lived them. Every decision for science and medicine-- and often the cybernetics ones, too-- affected her. Affected what her boss would do with her next. Though Diane was never one to wait for the government to approve a new toy before she started playing with it. She was no different in the eighties than she was when Emma resigned from her position: cold, obsessive, and horrifyingly driven.

There would not be an Adya without Nora and Emma. The combined, public death of Project Gossamer for Nora and VEIL for Emma led to the birth of the American Cybernetics Association. A body founded on scientific advancement and-- though they would never admit it-- crossing the moral lines of what it means to be human. And in their social and scientific exile, all that Nora and Emma could do was watch.

Emma takes a drag of her cigarette. Her fingers, stained with ink, pull back the third page of the newspaper. A police siren sounds about eight blocks away. It still makes her throat tighten, no matter how far. It had never been her before. She was a loose canon now, though, and there is nothing she would put past Diane. She would probably try and come after her in a more subtle way than by making a fake 911 call, anyway. Emma lets her shoulders relax.

Nora grabs the paper by its wings and pulls it from Emma’s hands. It rustles onto the living room carpet, narrowly missing a long fall out the open window. Emma throws her arms out.

“What the fuck? I was reading that!” she shouts.

“Old news.”

“That was printed this morning!”

“Exactly.” Nora turns her wrist and offers Emma a tablet, screen bright-white and open to a headline. Emma grabs the device with both hands. She squints. With the swipe of a few fingers from Nora, the display dims. “Stop doing that. It makes you look like a fossil.”

“I am a fucking fossil,” says Emma. She takes an even closer look at the news site. The New York Times-- an acceptable change in pace. Their research as of late has been way too many conspiracy journalists, academics, and declassified government documentation. Her eyes focus in on the headline, bold and italicized and impossible to miss. 

FBI Arrests 103 in American Cybernetics Association Scandal; Illegal Weapons And Bionics Development Uncovered

 “The other shoe just dropped,” says Nora. But Emma stands perfectly still, jaw set in place. Her cigarette burns down to her fingertips and she hardly feels it. It is such an evil thing to think anything but condolences at a headline like that. No moral high grounds, no meaningless discourse over who was justified and who wasn’t, but it’s impossible not to. All she and Nora can hear in her heads is I knew it.

I always fucking knew it.

[tarrenterror25]

Ah, Tarren - congrats!! So excited for you, absolutely so well-deserved. Reading your fics and thots and posts has been such a pleasure! And this is such a fun celebration - I can’t wait to see what you share with us 💖

Could I please request: Alfred Pennyworth + Regency + “I feel things for you that I shouldn’t.”?

Congrats again, my friend!!! 💖✨

OKAY so you and @communism-bitches requested the same thing! So this one is for the both of you! For that, this is longer than 500 words 💕

Thank you so much, J! 💕 I'm so glad you've enjoyed reading my fics and thots! I get all warm and fuzzy reading all of your feedback! Thank you so much for supporting my writing 💕

Thank you so much, H! 💕 Thank you for being who you are and for supporting my writing! I'm so happy you enjoy reading my fics and thots!

This one was the biggest challenge for me! Whew! I've never written regency AU before so thank you to the both of you for being my first! I hope you guys like it!

100 follower celebration

Alfred Pennyworth x F!Reader

Alfred Pennyworth + Regency + "I feel things for you that I shouldn't."

Tags: Age-gap, boxing Word Count: 1.2K

It's that time of the year when Oswald Cobblepot is hosting his annual soiree at his home or his "winter palace" as he calls it. You hate going, but for you to refuse the invitation would cause a stir. It's not that the party is boring or dull, quite the opposite actually.

It's a madhouse.

The gentleman and ladies present never seem to get along, but somehow they all attend anyways. Cobblepot manor is always packed with guests and lively with all kinds of festivities. Usually during a card game, Mr. Dent would seemingly become a different person should he lose and you could always expect the most scandalous of gossip to come from Ms. Vale who just seemed to know everything about everyone. Often you would spend time with Pamela who spent her time in the gardens, preferring the quiet of the flowers versus the crowds. Sometimes you would chat with Harleen, she was great fun to be around though a bit raucous for a lady.

But there was one person who, for the past few years, made it all worthwhile. Since the two of you crossed paths, you looked forward to seeing him here.

You and Alfred Pennyworth, the mysterious guardian of Bruce Wayne, first met in the parlor of Cobblepot Manor where a game of charades was taking place. The two of you hung back in the wings of the room and, dare you say, mildly flirted with each other. Both of you talked all night and you quickly forgot the bickering taking place in the parlor happening over the game. Every year after that, you two sought each other and would spend the entire evening talking about nothing and everything all at once. You even dared to exchange letters with him this last year.

Now you're here, dressed in your finest gown and you're looking around, trying to spot Alfred, but there's no sign of him. Usually you find each other rather quickly. You adjust your gloves and wander the halls of the manor, fighting through the crowds of people looking for him, but he's nowhere to be seen.

Did he not come this year?

Oh, how your heart starts to ache.

You've grown so fond of him; your last letter might have been a tad playful in its tone and you recall how when you wrote that you realized your fondness was indeed an attraction to the older gentleman. Like a butterfly to flowers in spring, you found yourself always gravitating to him and quickly found it wasn't just his personality you liked. You never forget the year you saw him remove his coat and roll up his sleeves as some of the gentleman went out to the yard for a bit of rough housing. You could not deny the awakening in you as you watched the older man hold his own against the younger men. One young lad who was talking a big game came to regret the challenge when Alfred dodged his right hook and delivered a quick solid jab to the man's stomach making the younger man double over in pain before falling to the ground. Alfred, ever the gentleman chuckled and kindly helped him up.

You head outside where more people are gathered. There's a table with some morsels placed enticingly on some serving dishes and as you reach for one of them, your hand brushes another that simultaneously has also reached for the same. Your eyes flick over to the hand, it's broad and looks strong, a gold ring with a "W" on its face. Your gaze travels up the arm and to the person next to you and you smile as your heart flutters.

It's Alfred.

He smiles, too, but it looks...melancholic.

"Pleasure to see you as always, miss," he says placing his hands behind his back.

"You're here!" you say excitedly, but then chance a playful quirk of your brow as you ask, "Have you been avoiding me?"

His smile grows a little wider and he holds up his left hand, his right coming to rest on his chest. "You've caught me," he says.

Sensing a somberness in his tone, you ask, "...Truly?"

Wordlessly, he glances around to be sure no one is paying attention to the two of you. He gently grasps your hand. The gesture makes your breath hitch as he leads you away from the crowd, quite stealthily you might add. No one seems to have noticed that the two of you have disappeared.

He stops when the two of you turn a corner and reach a small set of steps leading up to a balcony overlooking the section of yard not occupied by guests. No one seems to have been bothering to venture in this area.

The pair of you sit on a stone bench on the balcony, his hand still holding yours for a brief moment more before letting go. The older man finally lets out a sigh. "I was hoping we wouldn't run into each other this year," he says.

"Why?" you ask. "Have I done something?"

"No, no, miss," he assures you. "I suppose...it is I who has done something."

"I don't understand," you say shifting a bit closer to him.

His gaze flicks down to where your knee brushes his and then back up to your face. If you had blinked you would have missed his tongue darting out ever so slightly to lick his lips.

"I feel things for you that I shouldn't," Alfred says. "A man my age...it is probably inappropriate."

You smile and let out a small chuckle, relief washing over you. "Alfred," you say turning your body to face his even more, your gloved hand coming to rest on his. "I feel things, too."

He looks surprised. "You do?"

"I do," you reply.

A content silence hangs between the two of you as you gaze into each other's eyes.

"I'd like to ask before it's too late," Alfred says. "I'd like to request that next year I do not see you like this." His hand comes up to cup your face. "I do not wish to rendezvous with you in empty hallways or secluded balconies. I should like to see you accompanying me to this event instead."

"Yes! Of course!" You smile bashfully and repeat yourself, trying to contain your enthusiasm.

There's a silence again.

"Alfred?"

"Yes?"

The two of your scoot closer to each other, thighs pressing against each other, his hand still on your cheek, brushing his thumb across your skin, and his other hand coming to rest on your waist.

"Can...Can I kiss you?" you ask softly.

Your bold nature has the corners of his mouth turn up as he smiles at you, his blue eyes beaming with adoration. He slowly leans in towards you and kisses you. It's a soft and chaste kiss, but slow and romantic. His lips linger on yours long enough that you can taste the fruit and tea he's had from the party. When he pulls away, there's a growing desire in the pit of your stomach for more. He seems to sense it as he speaks and says with a chuckle, "We should be getting back now."

[kirisaki-daichi-scenarios]

a discussion of jabberwock with team interaction hcs + deeper nash analysis

for anon who asked "Can we get some headcanons for jabberwock members or like headcanons when they're together? (its okay if it was jason or nash only)" and made me realise it's about time i get these guys' personalities down

note before we start: cause i didn't know their names until i wrote this

zack is the bald one, allen is the one with a headband, nick is the other white guy apart from nash.

team hcs

nick gets bullied for being under 6ft, but not by jason

nah good old jason teases all of them for being short fucks, emphasising that they’re all 5ft tall in comparison to him

he 100% lifts things out of the others' reach and then laughs for ages after when they try get them

unfortunately though, they’re all used to this and now just ignore him. either that or nash stares at him so intensely jason actually repents and hands it back

zack’s another one with a very good glare, but he’s used it too often on jason and it’s since stopped working.

also jason gives me ‘straightens his back as much as possible when getting measured so he’ll measure in as 7ft’ vibes

oh and he thinks he could wrestle a gator and win. i’ve got no explanation for that except for the fact you can't tell me it's ooc.

allen’s very protective over his white headband - it’s his lucky item - but he’d never let anyone know that

he’s confident in his abilities like the rest of them, but there’s nothing wrong with wearing a headband just in case

(nash knows anyway)

they watch nba matches together and do not shut up once throughout the entire match - lots of jeering, booing each other if someone criticises a player they like, lots of “i could do that”, lots of “get your fucking hand out of my popcorn do you want me to punch you in the face” etc

they used to all live together, but nash has since moved out. he was sick and tired of trying to make people do chores, as the only one who kept their room clean.

yeah the others’ house looks like a heap of trash but also very much “where’s my toothbrush?” “it’s in the third coke can by the orange peel behind the sink” *silence* “yeah thanks” *a minute later* “who the fuck has been using my toothbrush”

they’re all “bro your dribbling sucks why are you on this team loser” to one another, but also very protective (aka arrogant for one another) if anyone else Dared to criticise one of their teammates

then again, what kind of person would criticise jabberwock

half of the time he spends with jabberwock, nash is a Single Mother TM trying to get a bunch of man children to behave; the other half of the time, he's just as bad as the rest of them

i talk about this a lot but i get the feeling nash is an exceptionally hard worker, but at least he gets to let his hair down around his teammates sometimes

nash is also the only person jason thought was truly ‘strong’ at first sight

and nash is also the only person who can beat jason in a fight, and also the only person who can get nash to train, and also the only person who can.. [etc. you see my point].

(n.b jason calls himself the ‘almighty me’, nash says that ‘even god can’t beat me’. point made.)

you know how jason silver’s motto is “I have never thought”

imagine him proudly stating that, before zack adds with a straight face, “yeah cause nash does it for you.”

in short, the team would fall apart without nash.

although the team’s communication and coordination is very fine tuned, nash is the guy who keeps everything in order off the court to prevent what is essentially a team of aces ('main characters', if you will) from falling apart

they hang out together a lot, but do all have other friend groups that do not overlap

team bbqs

unofficial rule not to criticise anchovies on pizza because the one time nick did, nash snapped

however pineapple on pizza is fair game, even though zack quite likes it

more than once, jason has brought a girl home and nick has stolen her attention away with effortless trick shots, funky ball manoeuvring etc

more than once nick has had to trek to nash’s place (with a black eye) at midnight to have somewhere to sleep

do you see a correlation?

oh and everyone in the team has been walked in on by nash when they were naked with some girl

nash has absolutely no shame

he apologises to the girl with a charming albeit insincere tone, and then remains standing in front of the bed/couch until his teammate does what he expected of them

usually it involves not having come to practice

allen learnt a few (emphasis on ‘few’) words of japanese before they travelled to japan and was disappointed that he never got to use them

that said, one of those words was hentai

and now a quick analysis of some panels

a) so there's at least one player who wasn't underestimating vorpal swords. if i were to overanalyse, i'd add that nick's wearing a hoodie (possibly athletic wear) whilst nash has a 'fancy' shirt on; perhaps nick wasn't expecting them to be going to host clubs instead of chilling/training?

b) i know what you're thinking: "how can you say nash is a hard worker when he didn't want to practice for the match". i reckon he was still pretty high on the complete and utter success of their previous match, that plus being around girls, encouraged him to have a more 'jason-y' personality. (either that or fujimaki didn't want to add too much depth/realism into nash's character bc he's unequivocally the villain, right? and obviously this helps with the plot and the jabberwock bad geniuses gom good geniuses rhetoric.)

earlier, i mentioned how nash is the only one that could keep the team together, and is thus the undeniable head of the team; here's a clear example. you can see both jason and zack have no interest in continuing - if anything, there's disgust in their faces, kinda just saying "we spat on all of japan, now we can go home". whereas nash won't allow for the slightest of possibilities that there might exist a team stronger than them, and hence agrees to the match. the key thing here is that the others do as he says without too much fuss.

another thing to note is nash's reference to harakiri. now what can we make of that, alongside his proficiency in japanese, in relation to his character? the way i see it, he's either a weeb or possibly has some japanese lineage. (you could spin that even further and say his mother was japanese, taught him the language, then abandoned him, and hence his almost excessive hatred/mockery of the japanese people.) (is that why he wanted to do another match in japan..?)

just a quick point. "thanks to him" - jason isn't so superior as to think that he could win this match effortlessly without nash's support. links pretty nicely with my earlier idea about how nash is the only person jason has always considered 100% strong.

yet another point about how nash is the strongest of the team in pretty much every way you can think of. you know how scary/powerful you have to be to shut jason up (after he's getting real pissed from being prevented from scoring?)

i personally think this is a pretty important panel, though i've never seen anyone mention it before. did nash grow up training in a professional basketball training situation, as opposed to growing up playing streetball like i suspect the others did? well, to answer that question, imma bring in another panel.

here we see visible rage on nick, zack and jason's faces - they can't accept their loss, which is fair enough. but i'd argue that nash's face seems to depict sadness more than it does anger like to rest of them, look at how downturned his mouth is - and he's looking away from the 'camera', as if hiding his shame.

when you combine that with what he says here, i have no doubt that this is someone who has experienced some proper lows in basketball - as would be expected from someone who's played 'properly'. he's possibly not even a prodigy like the rest of them - compare jason's motto with his. "i have never thought" versus "do not suppose opportunity will knock twice at your door".

there's various lines of thinking you could design with this - he might have been trained by alex (hence, himuro having heard of jabberwock, though he should have known of a team as popular of jabberwock regardless), he might have grown up with professional basketballer parents etc. but here's my own little theory:

nash received serious basketball training from early on - maybe because his parents were living vicariously through him, or maybe he always loved the sport and wanted to be no1. so there he was training away, but, as he grew older, it started getting all a bit too much.

he didn't want to dedicate his entire life to basketball. after all, his hobby is water sports and his speciality is boxing; that's a lot of different things to be keeping up with, whereas the pipeline for promising athletes demands people focus solely on basketball. as a result, nash become bitter: stopped attending practice regularly, got in trouble for trash talk of increasing severity, etc.

result was he was kicked out of the program.

only when he was no longer playing basketball again, did he realise how much he missed it. and hence he got into streetball, where he was tremendously successful as someone with so much training, 'elite skills', and the overly confident attitude to boot.

then, one fateful day, he met jason and the rest is history.

[fuckleydiaz]

Missing You - Part One

James Barnes visits his mothers grave after the funeral of a friend, he remembers a letter and someone from his past makes a reappearance.

(This is short. Sorry)

The Day of the Funeral of Steven Grant Rogers

January 19, 2024

Snow crunched underneath Bucky’s feet. It was the kind of snow that most people found annoying; snow that had half melted on an unseasonably warm winter day and then refroze in a cold snap. People were dispersing quickly from the graveyard, having paid their last respects to the former Captain America.

The services had been private, graveside, like Steve had told him he wanted (and if he was being honest, he knew Steve trusted him to make sure it had happened that way.) Bucky and Sam had both said some words about their dearly departed friend, tears had been shed, and now while the people in attendance were making their way to the church where Steve’s recently discovered granddaughter (at least to Bucky and Sam) was hosting a meal, James Barnes found himself standing at the edge of a section of graves. Graves that he hadn’t been able to bring himself visit yet, not since the Wakandans had removed the Winter Soldier from his mind.

Ten graves total, he thought. The Barnes family plot. His father, George was one of them and beside him, his mother, Winnifred. Next to his mother laid his sister Rebecca, and her husband Albert. Then was Francesca (Frankie, he remembered calling her), the only grave he’d actually visited because she had died of the flu in 1920. He’d been three years old when she died, equally as sick with the virus and not able to understand why they were putting her in the ground. She was a week shy of ten months old at the time of her death.

Beside Frankie’s grave, there was a stone that read his name, James Buchanan Barnes. Born 1917, died 1945. He could only assume his mother had it put in to give her some closure, knowing that exact plot was empty. Beside him was another stone that brought tears to his eyes. Josephine Barnes. His wife, his first love. He’d left her six months pregnant to go to war. He hadn’t known at that time that it would be the last time he saw her. He hadn’t known at that time his wife was carrying twins, but the name etched underneath his late wife’s was the one that choked him completely. Kathryn Grace Barnes.

He knew from what memories he did have that Kate was his daughter. His wife had successfully delivered a healthy son, but then complications had arose and neither his daughter or his wife had survived. Realistically, he had a box of letters that Steve had saved of his things, the ones he sent back to Becca. They’d mysteriously shown up to his apartment once he’d gotten resettled in America, so he was slowly working his way through them again. He’d read that specific letter a few days ago, so it was still fresh in his mind.

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

My dear brother,

I’m writing to you on this day, October 1, 1943 to inform you of news. Yesterday morning at a quarter after seven, Josie delivered a son. He is healthy, has a good set of lungs on him and looks very much like his father. She named him after you, Jamie. James Buchanan Barnes II.

Ten minutes after his birth, it became clear that something was wrong with Josephine. She was delivering a twin sister to baby James. I wish I had more good news for you, brother, but I’m afraid I do not. Josie delivered the girl, but she had already passed at her time of birth. She named her Kathryn Grace, which was the name she had decided on for James if he had been a girl. She referred to her as Kate.

Jamie, she was beautiful and I just know that if she had survived that in fifteen or sixteen years time you would be fighting off boys trying to court your daughter.

With three sisters, the youngest of which being nearly thirteen years your junior, you know that bleeding postpartum is normal and to be expected, but it became very clear that the bleeding Josie was having wasn’t normal. They called for an ambulance, but by the time they had transported her to the hospital, Josie was gone.

Jamie, I want you to listen to me here. I know your heart must be hurting this far into the letter, but I need you to promise me that you are going to try your hardest to come back. Baby James has already lost his mother and his sister at less than an hour of age, please do not orphan this poor boy. He deserves to have his father, who was so terribly happy and excited to become one, be present in his life.

Until you return home, Albert and I will take care of him. I promise you he will be taken care of and will know nothing but love. The pediatrician has instructed us to use an infant formula of evaporated milk and he has taken to it like a duck to water.

Perhaps I will take him to get his photograph taken, so you may see your son.

I am terribly sorry for bad news, but I hope you are doing well,

Rebecca.

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

Bucky could not bring himself to look at that last stone in the plot. He knew it read his name again, but the dates killed him on the inside 1943 to 1966. He knew the story, he’d heard it from a Matthew Rogers, who he learned was conceived shortly before Steve took down the Valkyrie in 1945 and born in January of 1946. Of course, Steve was supposed to be dead, which led Peggy Carter to raise his son alone until she married her late husband. Matthew Rogers finally got to meet his father at the age of sixty five, which was kind of mind blowing if Bucky thought about it too long.

But, the story was Rebecca Barnes did everything in her power so that Jimmy Barnes knew who his father was, claiming he was a war hero and other such things. Jimmy had enlisted when the United States went to war in Vietnam, but much like his father, he never returned to New York alive.

With a sigh, Bucky found himself sitting in the snow in front of his mother’s grave. The ground was cold, but he decided to ignore it, reaching up to brush off the snow that covered the top of his mother’s stone. Someone had been taking care of the Barnes family plot, since all of them were legible and not covered in dead weeds and snow.

“Hi, Ma.” He murmured. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here to see you. I bet you were so mad when you got to the other side and I wasn’t even there.”

“She’s gonna be waiting to kick your ass when you get there, though.” The voice behind him made him jump. He didn’t even hear the person walk up behind him. “Did you get the letters, Jim Jam?”

The nickname is all it took for it to come rushing back. His eyes quickly rushed over the names on the stones, making him realize someone was missing. His baby sister. It couldn’t be, she’d be well into her nineties at that point, but the woman who plopped down beside him didn’t look a day passed forty five.

“Mary?”

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

Taglist: @teelagurl558 @mackenzielovee

[kpop-stan23-writes]

old money seonghwa

another case of me reading this post by @warmau and being inspired! btw, if you enjoy brilliantly clever bullet aus you should definitely give skye a follow.

read san's part here and mingi’s part here

group: ateez member: seonghwa genre: fluff? rich boy au word count: 1.5k warnings: a few curse words. the note is a little suggestive pairing: seonghwa x gn!reader

note: the seonghwa i portray here definitely isn't the type of seonghwa who would hover over you while dressed in a three piece suit and you're wearing nothing but one of his vintage watches but i figure hey, maybe he can grow into that seonghwa

heir to a trust fund that has been getting richer by the decade

only knows other trust fund babies

appears cold and standoffish to the general public but that's really only because he doesn't know how to interact with people not in the top 1%

(secretly very awkward)

only wears high end luxury brands and old, vintage watches that have been in his family for generations

gets driven around in a limo with windows tinted black

perfect gentleman

has never once in his life forgotten his manners because they were practically beaten into him since he could walk

everybody in the upper class loves him because they think he's perfect: perfect manners, perfect looks, perfect bank account

and that's okay

it's the only life he's known, after all

until he meets you

it's your friend's birthday, and their rich other half has given you some money to pick out something

you're frugal, having grown up modestly, and knowing your friend's taste, found something they'll adore for a fraction of the money their s/o gave you

you're standing in front of a jewelry store when your friend surprises you and all but drags you into the store

you roll your eyes but follow, listening to them say that you should go ahead and spend the spare change *wink wink*

seonghwa is already inside, searching for a suitable gift for his mother's own birthday

he looks up when he hears a salesperson greet the newcomers

and immediately tells the saleswoman helping him to bag everything you look at

her eyes widen at the request but nods and hurries away to inform the others

you're none the wiser, eyeing the lovely jewelry and ignoring your friend as they try to convince you that their s/o wouldn't mind if you spent the money on yourself, since you've already gotten the birthday gift *wink wink*

your friend does find a little something as a birthday gift to themselves and you follow them to the cashier

three large bags are placed on the counter and you and your friend share a look

"i only purchased this," your friend says

"oh no these are yours," the cashier says, looking directly at you

"but i didn't--i can't--"

"oh they're on seonghwa's tab. he's just over there"

your head whips around just in time to see the retreating back of a tall figure

you look back at the three large bags filled to the brim each with neatly wrapped boxes

"how much..."

your friend nearly chokes when the cashier hands over the bill

you don't dare look yourself, just stare at the empty entry where this seonghwa disppeared

your friend fills you in about the park seonghwa as you walk to your car, arms heavy with the unexpected gifts

with every fact your friend tells you, you feel yourself grow more and more confused

this man has everything he could ever want, and you assume that includes his fill of attractive suitors of the same class

so who are you? just a random stranger who happened to stop by a high-end jewelry store way out of your price range

when your friend's s/o hears about what happened, they're just as shocked as you

because park seonghwa spending oodles on a perfect stranger? what has the world come to

you try going back to the jewelry store to return the jewels, but they tell you they can't process a refund without the original card

so you convince your friend's s/o to give you the address to seonghwa's penthouse apartment, because now you get a chance to demand an explanation as well

stepping out of the cab with your arms full of bags with the expensive name splashed across in big bold letters makes you feel sorely out of place

because wow what a building

the lobby, while small, has tall ceilings, and the marble floors make every step you take echo

the woman behind the counter is in a simple black dress that still looks like it costs more than several months of your salary put together and you fidget nervously in your ripped jeans and scuffed shoes

the woman looks down her nose at you even though you're standing over her and for a moment you're at a loss as to what to say

the longer you stand there, though, the more foolish you feel, and you hate feeling foolish, so quickly you're just mad you're in this situation to begin with

you drop the heavy bags on the smooth wood counter and say "let seonghwa know i'm here to return the jewelry"

"and what's your name?"

"he'll know who it is"

she looks like she's ready to argue, but you just turn your back to her, leaning against the counter and tapping your foot obnoxiously loudly in a way that makes it obvious you won't leave until she's given seonghwa your message

she huffs but picks up the phone

she relays your message in a tone that clearly says she doesn't believe a word you say and you have to fight a smirk when you notice her eyes widen in surprise at seonghwa's response

she clears her throat and passes you a key board and tells you to use it to get to the penthouse floor

you take the card and gather your bags and march toward the elevators

frustration is still coursing through your veins when the elevator doors open directly into seonghwa's living room, so you don't notice that wow the pictures you've found online of park seonghwa don't do him justice

instead you march fearlessly up to him, drop the bags on the large leather sofa, and cross your arms over your chest

"what exactly are these for?"

you are prepared for all sorts of reactions, ranging from disbelief to anger

what you weren't expecting was the ever-cool, every-confident park seonghwa to burn holes in his slippers, rub the back of his neck uncertainly, and say questioningly, "they're for you?"

you're so shocked at his response that you're rendered dumb

this is not the park seonghwa you were expecting

he's looking at you now, his dark eyes wide (you know the look he gets, the galaxy-filled boba-eyed look) and look as innocent as a calf

any anger you had at being put in this ridiculous situation leaves you immediately and now you're feeling as awkward and uncertain as he appears to be

you clear your throat and gesture to the bags and explain that no one could possibly wear that many jewels in one lifetime

he seems confused and you suddenly wonder if he's ever seen the women in his life wear a piece of jewelry more than once

"look it's a really sweet and kind gesture," you say quickly, "but it's simply too much. can you please return these?"

seonghwa just nods and you're left standing in front of each other awkwardly

you finally bow and scurry away, but are then left hanging out to dry because where the hell is that elevator and why didn't it just stay on the top floor when you got out??

your friend and their s/o pesters you about how it went but you just wave them off because you're guessing you've seen a side of park seonghwa no one has ever seen before and it feels strangely intimate and you feel strangely protective

you keep an eye out for him in the news, now, though, and can't get over how put-together and suave he looks on camera

it makes you almost wish you could get to know the seonghwa you saw

but you're from completely different worlds, shop at completely different stores, and after all he only spotted you out of chance

what you aren't expecting is to see him at your friend's birthday party just two weeks later

because their s/o is hosting the event, it's black tie required, and with your friend's help you clean up well

you're also there before the other guests, helping the s/o as a second host

so as you're making the rounds of the guests, you stop in your tracks when you spot park seonghwa

damn he looks really good in a suit

and for a moment you see the cool, distant park seonghwa in the flesh

but as soon as your eyes meet, his gaze warms and is that a hint of a blush on his cheeks?

you straighten your shoulders because dammit you will be a good second host and greet all the guests like you're supposed to

you finally make your way to seonghwa and thank him for attending your friend's birthday party

"i never caught your name," he says before you can run away

you stop in your tracks and just stare at him now because he really bought those things without even knowing your name? seeing him at your friend's party you thought maybe he recognized you through their s/o but he really couldn’t have picked you out of a lineup?

he shifts under your unblinking gaze and you quickly clear your throat and introduce yourself properly

he smiles a little and you swear you hear him say "pretty. it suits you" under his breath

but you heard wrong, right?

you finally manage to flee when you hear your name called and you quickly bow before scurrying away

seonghwa is left in a daze the rest of the evening, your pretty name going around and around in his head

the end?

[bleachhaven]

Soutaicho’s Secret Admirer (Shunsui x Reader) — Part 3/6

Author’s Note:

I know I said I’d have something for you this weekend, but all the love ya’ll showed Part 2 of this story had me super inspired that I just sat down and wrote this out. After all, feedback is what fuels writers xD There should be a few more parts left after this. I know I know...the 2-parter story has evolved into a 5-parter :P

First off, thank you so much for all the love! Secondly, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. 

A very special thanks to @sexintheseireitei​ for all the encouraging words! This chapter is dedicated especially for you!

--

Read Part 1 and Part 2 first...

As much as Nanao-chan strictly insisted that today was just like any other day, the bits of pink and red popping up all over the black and white of the seireitei said otherwise. Of course, Squad 1 was devoid of such nonsense, despite Shunsui's several clandestine operations to host a party in the 1st for the last decade. He had been sternly thwarted by his fuktaicho who did not believe this day to hold any meaning at all.

Maybe that's why it was that much more fun to bother her thoroughly with something she would definitely think to be too extravagant.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my sweet, sweet, Nanao-chan," Shunsui said with a cheeky smile, plopping the gift down on her desk.

She stared at the little teddy-bear donned in red bows and holding a red plushy heart saying "sweet, sweet, Nanao-chan!"

Her gaze turned upwards towards him. "This is a highly inappropriate gift to give to your fuktaicho."

"Ah, but we are practically family. And you are my sweet, sweet, Nanao-chan after all..."

"Hmm..." was all she said in response.

Even if she said she hated the gift, she dared not move it. She allowed the fluffy thing to take space on her desk and carried on working.

Shunsui continued to stare at her, waiting impatiently and expectantly. She continued to look over another expense report from the 11th for property damage, but Shunsui didn't move.

Finally she looked up. "Did you need something?"

He pouted at her. "Did Nanao-chan forget?"

She wanted to pretend and feign ignorance but she just couldn't do it. She has clearly gone soft in the past couple of years if his pouting face could make her cave this easily.

"Fine," she sighed, and reached into her desk drawer. In her hand was an assorted box of chocolates all complete with a white ribbon tied into a bow. "Happy Valentine's Day, Taicho," she said.

"Why, thank you, Nanao-chan! You really shouldn't have," he said making Nanao snort a bit. He was already opening it as he sauntered towards his side of the office.

On top of his desk was...well, nothing but paperwork, and he had to say he was just a little bit disappointed. He had been wondering what his beloved Secret Admirer would give him this Valentine's Day. Truthfully, it was all he had been  looking forward to this week. But there was no love letter hidden beneath other official mail or left on top of his window sill.

He sat down at his desk and pulled out his latest project. He popped in one of Nanao-chan's chocolates, the taste of salted caramel teasing his taste buds, and spread out the fancy lavender colored paper.

After all, she wasn't the only one with a way of words.

Even after becoming the Soutaicho, he continued to write a few chapters for "Rose-Colored-Path." Sure, that was mostly erotica but writing a love letter couldn't be that difficult, could it?

He already had a bit written out. He was still trying to figure out how to tell this sweet Secret Admirer he would want to get to know her, without making it sound like either its a command from the Soutaicho, or as if he was a complete and utter lecher trying to score a night or two of fun.

Then of course there was the bigger problem. How in the world was he to get this love letter to her? He still had no clue who she was let alone if she was actually serious about the things she said. It was both frustrating and romantic.

Right now, as things were, it was mostly frustrating.

It was in times like this that he desperately wished Juu was around. He was certain his best friend would have had some kind of solution or at least some words of wisdom to offer to this heartbreaking dilemma. Or maybe he would have admonished Shunsui for falling for someone he hadn't even seen yet. With Juu gone, and with the position he now held, he had no one to talk to about things that bothered him.

He had no peers after all. Being the man at the top was not easy. He knew it would be a difficult job when he stepped up to it, but he had no idea that it would be this lonely.

All of his quiet sighing and restless shuffling naturally drew Nanao's attention.

"How difficult is it to read through a missive and stamp your seal of authority?" Nanao asked, stepping up to his desk. He tried to hide what he was working on, but Nanao's sharp eyes would not be waylaid. "Unless...you are not working on the paperwork as you were supposed..."

"No, no!" Shunsui insisted, knowing the lavender paper was peeking through his hands. "It's just a bit of difficult paperwork. Strictly official business, I assure you, my dear Nanao-chan."

"Oh I see," she said, and Shunsui hoped she really didn't see at all.

"What is it?" he asked warily.

She had a strange smile on her face. One that had Shunsui wanting to run for cover. It did not bode well when Nanao-chan bared her teeth like that.

"Does this have anything to do with...your Secret Admirer perhaps?"

Shunsui could swear he tried to remain expressionless as to not give anything away, but maybe his heart stopped a little."I don't know what you are talking about."

She raised a brow at him. "Really? Do you really think anything would get by me in this office? That I wouldn't notice the fancy little letters you've been hiding from me?"

"You knew?" Shunsui asked, a bit shocked. And here he was thinking he was being so hush hush about the whole thing.

Nanao rolled her eyes and returned to her desk. "It offends me that you thought I didn't."

Interesting turn of events this turned out to be. He couldn't help but wonder. If Nanao-chan did indeed know all about his Secret Admirer...maybe...

"Do you know who it is?"

Nanao, who had picked up her paperwork again, smiled down at the form before her. "Maybe I do, maybe I don't," she said non-commitedly.

"Please, Nanao-chan! Don't be so mean to your Taicho. Just tell me."

She shook her head, denying his request. "I'm not telling you anything about anything. Now, please either do your work, or run along and let me do my work in peace."

"So mean," Shunsui mumbled, picking up the brush once more and dipping it in ink.

However, the whole conversation planted a terrible thought in his head. What if there really was no Secret Admirer? What if it was some elaborate prank on the poor lonely Soutaicho by someone? Maybe the SWA was having a laugh. He wouldn't put it past Matsumoto-san honestly. Or even his own Nanao-chan. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. And the more it made sense, the more it made his mood plummet.

But he didn't want to believe it. He longed for these letters to be true, for it was too late now. He was halfway there...falling for a nameless, faceless woman who had romanced and seduced him with just a sweet words. How cruel would it be for it to now turn out to be nothing more than a prank?

A few minutes passed by, the silence broken only by the scratch of brush on paper. Then a commotion outside startled Shunsui out of his reverie.

A sharp knock, and a bid to enter, was followed by an officer of the 1st relaying some strange information of something or the other that Squads 11 and 12 had gotten up to. A fight or a brawl.

Nanao sighed, standing up from her desk. "Not again."

"It's alright, Nanao-chan. I'll take care of it. You carry on with whatever it is that you were doing," Shunsui said making a move towards the door already. His mood was feeling low and this was the perfect excuse to get out of the office for a while.

Once he was gone, Nanao cleared up the completed paperwork on his desk to be sent to the relevant divisions. If the little lavender paper got stuffed between some forms and approvals, it was purely an accident. If that specific set of forms ended up in Squad 13, it was surely unintentional. If it was found by the third seat of Squad 13 it was only because their squad was without a fuktaicho still and all the paperwork fell upon her.

Nanao definitely couldn't have predicted any of that after all. But then again...Ise Nanao almost always knew exactly what was going on, did she not?

—

Shunsui was in a glum mood when he finally returned to the office. Nanao had left a message with another officer to let him know that she had a SWA meeting so she would be leaving the office a bit earlier than usual to attend that before the Valentine’s Day Party at the 8th.

He almost thought to go straight to said party. Lisa had continued with his silly tradition as the current Taicho of Squad 8, and she went all out. He dared not be too late and risk all the good sake provided generously by Squad 6, and the cellars of  Kuchiki manor itself, running out. But he had to finish his love letter, even if he knew he might never get to send it to the relevant individual...if there even was an individual in the first place.

When he stepped in, he couldn't see the lavender paper on his desk. Truth be told, he couldn't see anything on his desk at all.

It was covered with a huge, and by huge meaning gigantic, bouquet of red roses. He shunpoed to see if there was a card left for him, and there definitely was.

Dear Shunsui,

I have to say I don't need a special day out of the year to show you how much you mean to me. Still I know how much you enjoy this day. I used to love the parties you threw back then. Yadomaru Taicho carries on the traditions but I feel it's not just the same. Not without you.

Every day feels like a day dedicated to love when thoughts of you haunt me always...but what a beautiful way to be haunted indeed.

Happy Valentine's Day, Shunsui!

These roses may one day fade, but my love for you never will. I've loved you for a lifetime already, and I know I would love you for another lifetime more.

These are chocolates I made especially for you, infused with your favorite sake, just the way you like it. Every time you taste one, I hope you'd think of me thinking of how much I yearn to taste you.

With love,

Your Secret Admirer

He picked up the box of chocolates he hadn't noticed earlier as it was hidden behind the elaborate bouquet of roses. It was an elegant box with a pretty pink print of sakura blossoms, tied together with a pink bow. It almost looked too pretty to undo. Almost.

He slowly opened it and popped a cute heart-shaped chocolate into his mouth, savoring the taste of delicious chocolate mixed with the mild bite of the sake. It tasted absolutely divine.

He was floored. If this was a prank, it was truly an unnecessarily elaborate one.

But he allowed himself to cherish this moment in the solitude of his now quiet office. Handmade chocolates and flowers...it was something he would do for someone he was romancing. Now to be romanced by someone so extravagantly, it felt truly amazing. He couldn't believe someone made these with her own hands just for him. He didn't think he had something so sweet done for him in a very long time...maybe not forever.

He was the one who had always played the role of the romantic, the seducer, the lover...it did indeed feel nice to have this kind of charm turned on him.

But as much as he devoured the attention, he also felt strangely dismayed. Instinctively, he was a giver. It applied to his family and friends, and it definitely applied to his love life. Even if it was a summer fling, he still treated his companions with respect and adoration. In whatever way possible, he tried to give everything he could to those he loved and valued. It was not in him to not reciprocate. He didn't know how to not be a giver. It wasn't in his nature.

This time, he truly desperately wanted to shower his admirer with so much love and affection, and it killed him inside to not know who she was...

—

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[thedragonnerd]

Ficlet: Forgiveness (Namaari)

(tw: lil bit of violence. Finally managed to finish this!)

The Council of Kumandra has finally arrived at an agreement on article 7, clause 15 of a mutually beneficial trade agreement, when Benja raises his hand, and calls for a break in proceedings.

‘Now is a time for feasting,’ he says, ushering the Council members away from the chamber, and Raya could almost weep in relief. Her boredom had been so intense during the last thirty minutes of the meeting, it took all she had not to fall asleep right in the middle of negotiations.

She pulls herself out of her chair slowly, aiming to be the last to leave the room as she allows the visiting dignitaries to file out ahead of her - sometimes, playing the role of a good host can be exhausting. Her stomach is beginning to rumble loudly, but she’s torn between going to hunt for a plate of food first, or going to search for Namaari, who had been helping to represent Fang’s interests at this meeting, and hence had to sit with their party rather than next to Raya, where they can usually whisper back and forth on all sorts of ridiculous topics.

Although she hides it well, Raya has noticed Namaari struggles sometimes with attending meetings in other lands, especially in Heart where there are curious looks, or sometime downright hostile glares towards her and the rest of the Fang delegation.

It’s with this thought in mind that Raya stumbles out of the room and towards the distant hum of people already congregating for dinner. She bypasses the array of mouth-watering dishes however, nodding at her Ba as he catches her eye. He’s deep in conversation with Chief Virana, so she decides to avoid disturbing them, and focuses on scanning the room with a singular purpose in mind. She cannot see Namaari anywhere, but before she can venture forth to search other parts of the palace, Sisu bumps her shoulder gently.

‘Raya, my girl!’ she says, body curling around Raya slightly, and nose poking against Raya’s cheek. ‘What’s making you so distracted? Was it that long boring meeting? Cos I have to say, I totally dozed off for most of it, so I sure hope Pranee spoke up for us…’

Raya tunes her out slightly as she resumes her searching of the crowd, hoping to see Namaari’s broad shoulders somewhere in the room, until a soft ‘thwack’ of a paw lands on her arm, Sisu’s claws tapping gently on her skin.

‘Raya?’

‘Sisu, have you seen Namaari anywhere?’ Raya asks. ‘I haven’t been able to find her.’

‘Oh, she went outside a few minutes ago,’ Sisu proclaims, flicking her tail in the general direction of the door that leads to the gardens. ‘She said she wanted some fresh air or something.’

‘Thanks, Sisu!’ Raya calls absently over her shoulder, already heading for the exit. The negotiations had gone on for so long that dusk is beginning to fall, and a light breeze sweeps through her hair as the summer heat fades away. Lanterns flicker on as she hurries down the pathway that she assumes Namaari’s taken. Usually if everything gets too much, and Namaari feels overwhelmed, she tends to hide with her serlot for a while. There’s no reason she shouldn’t be there, perfectly fine and safe, but for some reason there is an anxious knot in Raya’s chest…a feeling that she needs to find Namaari now, just to be sure.

As she rounds a corner, she hears raised voices in the distance, and squinting her eyes, she spies a group up ahead. There are five young men – warriors, dressed in the clothes of Heart, Talon and Tail – and they are talking loudly and angrily at a sixth person, their hands already grasping their swords. Raya knows it is Namaari before she even sees the figure dressed in white, boxed in by the men with a large rock wall at her back.

‘’Maari!’ she calls, hastening her steps, but the people before her are too engrossed in their showdown to hear. From the direction of her approach, the men’s backs are turned to her anyway, and whilst she can see Namaari’s face, the other woman has all her focus trained on the threat.

She doesn’t want to spark a fuse by racing in unannounced if Namaari has it under control, but as she hurries along the path towards them, she sees one of the men take a step forwards, waving his sword around dangerously as he continues to shout. Five against one is not exactly fair odds, but Raya knows Namaari can handle herself well in a fight – indeed, has been on the receiving end of some of those punches both in battle and on the training grounds. If something is about to go down, she’s confident that Namaari will be able to hold them off long enough for her to arrive and join the fight.

She’s almost upon the group when it happens. Namaari grasps her two swords, pulling them out with casual ease, and then…she throws them down by her feet, her chin raised proudly. Raya’s blood runs cold as she watches the ringleader lash out, kicking Namaari down to the ground.

‘’Maari, get up!’ she cries out, sprinting the last few steps.

Everything seems to occur simultaneously. Namaari’s eyes widen as she sees Raya for the first time, her hand reaching out as if to stop her from coming closer, whilst several of the group begin to turn around at the sound of Raya’s voice. But Raya only has her sight set on the leader, as his arm raises and she sees a flash of metal swinging down towards Namaari. She desperately launches her own sword towards him, hoping Namaari won’t be caught in the crossfire, and its extended blade wraps around his, pulling his arm back abruptly.

Raya slides across the ground, foot kicking out at the two nearest opponents, and she can see them tumble down out the corner of her eye as she spins around, flinging her into the fight. She’s a skilled combatant herself, with years of being out on the road and having to watch her own back, and she manages to draw blood in the first few seconds of facing down a now rather surprised looking ringleader. But as soon as one goes down, there are two more circling around her. The men are all trained warriors themselves, and she realizes with a jolt that she recognizes several of them, especially those from Heart, making her reluctant to take a kill strike.

One moment of distraction by someone managing to slice her left arm means she is vulnerable, and in the next moment she lands heavily on her back, the breath knocked out of her. The Talon man peers down at her with an ugly twist to his smile, and there is a flash of a weapon coming towards her face before twin blades thrust into view, blocking his attack.

Namaari grasps her wrist, pulling her up with one hand, and then they are fighting back-to-back, a team of flashing swords and bloodied knuckles. Their opponents have no chance, and the five men lie on the ground with various wounds before Raya can even take a deep breath.

‘What were you binturis thinking?’ Raya feels the rage burning inside her as she looks at their prone forms. The ringleader – a warrior from Heart, she is shocked to see – spits blood onto the dirt, and then snarls up at her with red-stained teeth.

‘She’s the one that destroyed the world,’ he croaks, gesturing towards Namaari. ‘And yet now you welcome her here to our lands with open arms? After everything she’s done? We demand blood for blood.’

Six years of surviving alone during the reign of the Druun has made Raya observant and fast with her reflexes; as he pulls out his crossbow and begins to raise it towards Namaari, she has already lifted her foot, stamping down hard enough to feel the satisfying *crack* of his fingers under her heel.

‘No, you almost destroyed the world right now,’ she hisses, a white-hot rage sweeping through her mind. ‘You almost destroyed Kumandra and the peace we’ve sought for so long, with your inability to let go of the past and refusal to remember she also helped save this land.’

Her hand clenches in a fist, and she moves to lunge down for another punch to his face. A muscled arm curls around her waist instead, hauling her upright.

‘It’s alright, Raya,’ Namaari says softly, pulling Raya’s back against herself. ‘He’s not worth it.’

Raya is about to say exactly how worth it she thinks it would be, when they are suddenly surrounded by Ba, Virana, Sisu and other concerned guests, who have followed the sounds of the commotion.

--

Later, they are sat on Raya’s bed in silence.

‘Let me at least deal with that,’ Namaari breaks the stand-off, nodding her chin towards Raya’s arm, where the thin scratch still bleeds sluggishly.

‘I’m still angry at you,’ Raya says grumpily, but shuffles sideways slightly so that Namaari can have easier access to the wound. Namaari says nothing in response, leaving instead to collect up some bandages and a damp cloth, and when she returns, she focuses on cleaning the cut with precise focus.

‘It won’t need stitches,’ she murmurs as she wraps the clean bandage around Raya’s arms, her fingers gentle but firm in their actions. ‘I’m sorry you got hurt for me.’

‘Namaari, do you know why I’m angry?’ Raya interrupts the moment, ducking her head so that their eyes meet for the first time since dealing with the aftermath of the attack. Namaari holds her gaze for a moment, before her eyes slide away to fix on a point somewhere over Raya’s shoulder.

‘That man from Talon…Raya, his wife died in a Druun attack. Not turned to stone, but was actually killed in the chaos. Same for one of your own citizens – he told me his brother had drowned trying to swim away from the Druun in the initial attack. How do you expect me to hear that, and not…’

‘Not what, Namaari? Not hand yourself over for execution, or whatever they wanted to do?’ Raya is unimpressed. ‘Not everything is your fault, you stubborn binturi. And I refuse to let you become some sort of martyr due to some misguided quest for forgiveness.’

Her voice is raised slightly by the end, but one look at Namaari’s troubled face has her sighing deeply. She reaches out instead to wrap her arms around Namaari’s shoulders, pulling her into an embrace despite the stiff muscles she feels under her hands.

‘I wish sometimes that you’d simply forgive yourself,’ she confesses softly, the words coming easily. ‘But until then, I guess I’ll just keep reminding you instead.’

She feels arms tentatively rise up and wrap around her waist, and in response, she tucks her face in against the crook of Namaari’s neck. They sit embracing in silence for a long time.

[janamelie]

Dimension Jump XXI Report

I suppose I’m a DJ veteran now as this was my fifth consecutive one and the fourth at the Nottingham Crowne Plaza which is an expensive four-star hotel.  Sharing with a friend helps keep the cost reasonable and honestly, it’s worth it for the sheer convenience of being right there in the hotel and being able to nip back to your room as required.  (To be clear, you don’t have to stay in the hotel to attend the con.  There are plenty of other hotels nearby.)

Plus there is always the chance that you’ll see a guest at breakfast as I did Danny once.  He picked out a few pieces of fruit and nibbled at them before wandering over late to his photoshoot.  What else would you expect from a cat though?

Friday

Myself and @downonthepharm-red-dwarf (Amy) had arrived the previous day so had plenty of time to be near the front of the queue for registration.  Which meant we saw Hattie Hayridge arrive in a stunning designer coat and with smart luggage.  She really brought her outfit A-game and looked great the whole weekend.

Once we’d presented our respective proofs of full Covid vaccination or a recent negative test, we were given our DJ passes and booklets.  The latter has spaces for signatures from guests, an Order Of Events and various handy tips for the weekend.

The con kicks off at 5pm with an hour of gradual build-up in the Main Hall - they show videos from previous events, specially made titbits with various guests past and present such as Mark Dexter doing a mock guide to DJ and Rebecca Blackstone voicing Pree.  It all helps with the atmosphere, as do the numerous RD posters dotted around the hotel.

Then it was time for the Opening Ceremony featuring various Fan Club team members and an overcrowded stage full of cardboard boxes - the joke was that they’d had too much time on their hands during lockdowns and bought loads of stuff online.  It was obviously also a nod to Lister’s hoarding in “The Promised Land”.  

The sketch featured a specially made shot of the AA adverts’ Starbug model landing outside the Crowne Plaza and an 80s computerised version of the lovely convention logo.  You could tell a lot of loving effort had gone into the whole thing.

Once the guest line-up had been announced (I’ll get to that not-really-a-surprise-guest shortly), we went straight into the RD Pub Quiz, hosted by Hattie.  DOTP and I had been joined at our table by Lapsang and Barbs from our Discord (No Kind Of Atmosphere) plus various other attendees we’d befriended.

Someone in the crowd yelled “I love you, Hattie!” to which she quipped “I’ve pulled already!”  Another bloke shouted “Fuck off, she’s mine!” which led to a few shouts of “Fight!”  When neither seemed keen to do so, Hattie joked: “Only two?  That’s a bit pathetic!” and then we got started.

The quiz is hard, by design, but I’m good at quizzes and my team - No Kind Of Atmosphere after our Discord - came joint third which was gratifying.  (I was on the winning team a few DJs ago, to blow my own trumpet for a moment.  This is my report, after all.)

And then it was time for the first guest Q&A with - surprise, surprise - Johnny Vegas aka the Crit Cop in “Timewave”.  Not a great episode but he more than made up for that with an appearance I can only describe as chaotic.  Warning - DO NOT attempt to heckle him unless you want to be singled out and humiliated in front of the entire audience in a “Can’t look away” fashion which was nonetheless entertaining.  The man in question tweeted about it afterwards and seems to have taken it in good spirit.

Once we’d moved on from encouraging people to leave unpleasant things in room 429, it turned out Johnny’s a big fan of the show and owned it on VHS (so did I).  He thinks of the main characters, Holly would win at “Taskmaster” and had good reasons for that conclusion.  

He was dubious about the pink costume he wore in “Timewave” as he thought it might take away from the character but said he eventually decided he needed to get over what he was wearing and just go for it.  He also said one of his worst working moments was on “Benidorm” when he had to hold his breath underwater in a freezing swimming pool and his co-star kept forgetting her two lines so they had over 30 takes.  Ouch.

Johnny left commenting that he got less love at his 50th birthday party.  But we hadn’t seen the last of him by any means as people kept buying him drinks during the Auction, leading to him successfully bidding for one of the items on offer.

And then he was back for the Karaoke.  Now if you - as he informed us - had to undergo emergency dental surgery in the morning and had practically lost your voice, would you sing karaoke?  And not only that, would you sing a version of “Love On The Rocks” which lasted 11 minutes according to someone on Twitter (I wasn’t timing it, but I can believe it), followed by the full-length version of “American Pie”?

If you answered no, you’re clearly not Johnny Vegas.  He went to bed so late that the unfortunate Fan Club team member assigned to look after him got a grand total of 90 minutes’ sleep.

Saturday

DOTP and I had paid for the Photoshoot with Mr Vegas, Danny John-Jules and Ray Fearon.  We got in the queue at 9am which was when it was supposed to start.  An hour later we were still waiting.  Yep, Danny was late.

Once he made it to the hotel, I got my photo in front of a Science Room backdrop.  You might think Mr Vegas would be hungover and rushing through it, but on the contrary, he was still enjoying the hell out of proceedings which was refreshing to see.  Since he’d been added to the line-up too late to be in the souvenir booklet, he signed extra inserts for the Fan Club which they handed out to everyone at the later Autograph sessions so attendees got his autograph after all even though he’d finally left.  That’s what I call throwing yourself into an event.

Next up was a combined Q&A with Danny and Ray (originally separate but Danny’s lateness meant they were teamed up).  This wasn’t a problem at all though - on the contrary, it worked really well as the chumminess between them added to the vibe.  Also it was Ray’s first convention so he probably preferred to have Danny backing him up, especially since the poor man tripped on his way to the stage and almost fell.  I don’t think he was hurt but I cringed with secondhand embarrassment and empathy.  He wasn’t the only one to fall foul of the edge of the stage that weekend; I think it was the slightly raised dancefloor in front of it.

As is usual for Danny, we were treated to over half an hour of what you can only really describe as a stream of consciousness as he pontificated about various things.  He and Ray did also talk about working together on “Death In Paradise” and Ray described his worst working experience there - he had to play a scene in a club in 45 degree heat with a live snake wrapped around his neck!

Ray is attractive in a “Hollywood hunk” way and Danny was clearly conscious of this, joking that he’d “brought his own security with him” and muttering “I’m better-looking anyway!”  But all in a jokey way as they’re clearly friends.

Danny had come from filming and dropped a heavy hint that he’s appearing in a Dickens adaptation which I imagine will be shown at Christmas as they generally are.  He also complained that Craig Charles never answers his phone: “You send him a message and he answers it on Twitter a month later!”  (Interestingly, Chris Barrie later mentioned a recent phone conversation with Craig so make of that what you will.)

Ray was quieter but happy to talk about the vagaries of showbiz and typecasting - he said that due to his Shakespearean background he gets a lot of serious roles so people were genuinely surprised that he could also do comedy but “I was always funny!”  He also gently teased Danny about the age of some of his references before admitting he still finds Tommy Cooper funny.

Danny usually performs “Tongue-tied” with a good grace when inevitably asked to by an audience member but perhaps it’s finally starting to pall as this time he did it in the style of Oliver Reed’s Bill Sykes and included a lot of X-rated references to cunnilingus etc.  It was entertaining though.

Next up was a live Q&A (over Zoom) with Chris Barrie.  Danny decided to stick around as he wanted to show Chris something he’d ordered online.  It took a while to get the cameras in the right position for Chris to be able to see it and Danny needed a knife to open the parcel, leading Chris to quip “Is this a good time for me to step out for some lunch?”

However, it turned out to be worth it as it was a custom-made Ace Rimmer doll which impressed Chris with its quality and he complimented the maker.

Danny and Ray then departed for their lunch and to take part in the Coffee Lounge which this year had reduced its numbers for Covid-related reasons and held a ballot for entry in the interests of fairness.  Amy and I didn’t get in but happily stayed for the rest of Chris’s Q&A.

In the “working from home” spirit, Chris was in a hoodie in his living room as opposed to his more usual smart suit.  He was suitably relaxed and revealed he got through lockdown by concentrating on the things which make him happy, such as his hobbies, his garden and his family.  His favourite episodes are “Marooned”, “Dimension Jump” and - less predictably - “Twentica”.  He also referred to a recent “mannerly, as he would call it” phone conversation with Craig.  No details but it had clearly been a positive experience.

Amy decided to liven up the ending of his Q&A by asking a vitally important, “TPL”-related question.  Whom would Rimmer find more attractive, a female version of Lister or a female version of Cat?

Once the laughter had died down and Chris had bought some time by pointing out that “neither of them are women”, he gave the question appropriate consideration.  He pondered whether Rimmer would be more taken by the “simple charms” of Lister or the “feline grace” of Cat.  This next bit is courtesy of Amy as my memory isn’t infallible: He said it’d be a choice between a feline form or a rounder, a bit more slovenly woman - he wouldn’t want the perfectly feline woman because she might not like his imperfections, but he also wouldn’t want someone who ate curry three times a day.  “Basically, a balance would be ideal.”

That was the last question but Chris provided a little more entertainment as he had a “How do you turn this off then?” moment a la Gordon the computer in “Better Than Life” and made amusing faces as he figured it out.  If it was anyone but Chris I’d think it was a deliberate reference to that but I think he was genuinely befuddled.

We then broke for lunch, followed by Autographs with Hattie, Danny, Ray and Norman Lovett.  I got the latter three to sign the “TPL” poster I’d brought with me but gave Hattie the booklet instead as it seemed more tactful.  She complimented the dress I was wearing and I returned the compliment, telling her how much the fans appreciate the effort she makes with her DJ outfits.

Norman commented how there’s a version of the “TPL” poster he isn’t on, bemusedly.  Fortunately mine was the version including him. 

I spent the rest of the afternoon chilling in the bar with Amy, Lapsang and Barbs, chatting to other attendees.  Graphic Designer Matthew Clark was now in the Merchandise Room with various props from Series XII and “TPL” including the Starbug manual used onscreen.  I got his autograph on my poster but it’s an incomprehensible squiggle.  Oh well.  He was very friendly and easy to talk to.

After a break for dinner, the Main Hall reopened for the Costume Competition.  This seems to get better every DJ, with an amazing “Greyscale Rimmer” who was discomfiting to be around due to the corpse-like makeup, a Natalina Pushkin, a Nirvanah Crane who could almost have been Jane Horrocks herself and a Diving Suit Cat from “BTE”.  Other entries included Rimmer’s Mum, “Giraffes who were armed and dangerous” and a Confidence And Paranoia who were later pictured at the bar chatting to Paranoia himself, Lee Cornes.

We then had a special video message from Doug Naylor which I won’t go into as I’m sure everyone’s already heard the details.  Suffice to say, his tone was positive.

The second Auction was hosted by Ian Boldsworth who made it more entertaining by adding his own commentary to each item.  This was followed by a stand-up set from Norman.  It was amusing but he misjudged the mood a bit, I feel.  When you’re waiting for a disco to start and it’s already hours late due to Danny’s tardiness, you don’t particularly want to contemplate your own mortality.  We were here to get away from all that, as much as possible.

Anyway, the Disco was a lot of fun even if Dave Benson Phillips’ presence as host was sorely missed.  Hattie danced for the best part of an hour alongside everyone else.  The stand-in DJs did their job and I stayed until the end.  The final two songs were “Bohemian Rhapsody” and … “Tongue-tied”.

Sunday

Not being in the Sunday Photoshoot, Amy and I had a nice leisurely breakfast and got over last night’s festivities before the first Q&A, live over Zoom with Robert Llewellyn.

This was hosted by Ian Boldsworth who in his capacity as Dave era audience warm-up knows Robert well.  Clearly well enough to get away with teasing him relentlessly about not being at the con in person until poor Robert was a mess of Krytenesque guilt.  

His protestations that he’d been scheduled to be in Munich this weekend but no longer was (he was at home) only made things worse.  Ian: “Oh, so that’s two sets of people you’ve disappointed now!  Stop saying yes to things!”  It was hilarious and Robert took it in its intended spirit.  Also Ian was getting a measure of revenge for Robert - in character as Kryten - dry humping him at recordings.  One attendee asked “With the groinal attachment?!”

Robert admitted that he finds Kryten’s various groinal attachments hilarious and if he was writing the show they’d be in every episode.  He praised Doug’s restraint.

He also admitted that in “TPL” he had an earpiece to have his lines fed to him.  Since it’s controlled by an iPad, certain unscrupulous cast members took great delight in feeding him rude ones.

He still intends to update “The Man In The Rubber Mask” but atm “Fully Charged” is consuming a lot of his time as it’s become much more successful than he anticipated and he’s in charge of several people.

Surprisingly, he would hate appearing in RD without the Kryten makeup, both because it’s become much quicker to apply and because it provides him with a shield and he becomes Kryten and forgets stagefright.  He still can’t watch “DNA” for that reason.

Lapsang, who played Kryten in “Into The Gloop”, asked Robert if he’d seen it.  He hadn’t but said he was now very curious and would find a way to.

Next up was Lee Cornes aka Paranoia who said he originally auditioned for the lead roles and like the other unsuccessful actors got the consolation prize of a guest appearance.  Upon being asked if he’d gone out for a drink with Craig Ferguson’s Confidence, he said no because at the time they had a frosty relationship due to rumours that Craig was plagiarising other comics’ jokes.  Lee said it was all very silly and he’s since apologised.

Interestingly, Lee is a qualified science teacher and carried on with that career alongside his media one, leading to surreal situations where his pupils would ask: “Sir?  Were you on the telly last night?”  “Yes.”  “Are we on the telly now, sir?”

Someone asked a good question - what would Lister’s Paranoia be like now 33 years later?  Lee would be willing to reprise the role but isn’t sure it would work as the original had a childish quality whereas he feels now the character would be a lot darker and less funny.  Lee was both thoughtful and entertaining in his responses.

He was followed onstage by Hattie and Norman, who resolutely refused to rise to the bait of an audience member attempting to stir up a rivalry between them.  That only works when one isn’t the nicest person you could meet.

A tactless audience member asked both if they’d watched “TPL” instead of directing the question at Norman.  Luckily Hattie had seen it and particularly enjoyed the cat flap joke although she felt there was a little too much focus on the guest cast.

Norman didn’t really watch RD after he left but Hattie has seen Norman’s early episodes as he lent them to her back when she was originally cast as Hilly for research purposes.  Bear in mind this was 1988 when they weren’t even available on VHS so presumably he recorded them off the TV.  

Hattie confirmed with a sigh that she’s simply never been asked to return in any capacity: “That’s the short answer.”  What the hell, I’ll say it one more time - Bring Back Hattie!  One episode, that’s all I ask.  As it stands, it’s starting to look like a pointed and deliberate snub which mystifies me.

We then broke for lunch, followed by Rob Grant and Paul Jackson.  For obvious reasons they didn’t go into the current legal mess, opting instead to entertain the fans with the story of how they met and their early pre-RD work (Rob and Doug as freelance writers for Paul’s producer).

We saw some clips from their early shows including “Three Of A Kind” with Lenny Henry, Tracy Ullman and … later magician David Copperfield; apparently they all had the same agent and Paul took on David as a favour.  For a 40 year old show it held up pretty well and was in much better sound and picture quality than older shows often are. “Carrott’s Lib” was just as funny.

It’s a bit hard to summarise but this session was entertaining and gripping.  Rob still wants to write another RD novel and I believe there’s nothing actually stopping him as both he and Doug had an option to write a second solo novel.  So we’ll see.

The final Q&A was Matthew Clark who was very informative and interesting, showing us numerous production stills from Series XII and “TPL” and talking us through them.  There was a groan when time was called before he was finished.

By now time was running short and Amy and I went back to the room to pack and leave our luggage with reception before watching the start of “Dibbley Family Fortunes”. Since I knew I wouldn’t have time to watch it all, I instead nipped upstairs to Autographs with Lee and Ian, timing it perfectly as the queue had almost vanished.

Ian was still performing, drawing scornful attention to the fact that Lee had a longer queue: “Can you imagine all these people queueing to see Lee Cornes?!”  It sounds rude out of context but he was clearly joking.

I decided to ask Lee what flavour the yogurt Paranoia eats was.  He said it didn’t really taste of anything as it was the cheapest, nastiest canteen yogurt available and was also starting to curdle under the studio lights so eating it can’t have been much fun.

Since I now had about 15 minutes before I had to go, I caught a bit of Dibbley Family Fortunes, said goodbye to Amy, Lapsang and Barbs and then dashed off to catch the tram to the train station.  Another great DJ.

[singtheskyandfightlikehell]

BatFamily Headcanons: Stuffed Animals

In an attempt to productively combat my recent writer’s block, I’m practicing writing the batfam characters through short character study fics (which I will post once I make enough) and comparative headcanons. I might end up making short fics out of these, as well, since some of them got a bit long anyways

Today I decided to explore how many stuffed animals each member of the batfam (plus an adjacent character or two) has, what they think of them, how they got them, etc. I’ve got eleven characters on this list (and I’m still missing some, sorry)

Bruce:

Bruce put aside stuffed animals when he was eleven, deciding it was time to become serious. However, since acquiring children, he has been gifted a number of stuffed animals, ranging from a small and realistic brown bat to a child-sized bear wearing his cape and cowl. None of the children know this, but he keeps them all in a prominent position in his walk-in closet. Sometimes, when he has a particularly nasty fight with one of his kids, or he discovers something (like an injury) that they were hiding from him, he’ll tell the stuffed animals all the things he struggles to tell his children in the hopes that, one day, he’ll figure out how to express himself when it actually counts.

Alfred:

Alfred has no stuffed animals of his own, but he keeps the old, worn teddy bear that was once Thomas’ and later Bruce’s, alongside the somewhat lopsided bunny that Martha attempted to sew for Bruce when he was two. They sit side by side in a spotless glass cabinet filled with other memories that various members of the family have at one point or another attempted to cast aside.

Dick:

Dick has a pair of stuffed elephants, Eleonore and Zitka, and a teddy bear of his own, all from the circus. Most of the time they sit on the shelf under one of his nightstands, but when he has a particularly bad day, he’ll hold them all tightly until he falls asleep. If he’s crying, he finds it slows the tears to press kisses to the tops of their heads, or just smoosh his whole face into them. Sometimes, if he’s having a particularly good day – especially if no one else is sharing in his good mood – he’ll tell them about whatever made him happy. The rarest occasions are a bittersweet combination of both, the moments when he dwells on his happiest memories of his parents. When this happens, he is more likely to address them than his family, talking to them like old friends who were “there” for the things he’s recalling. It reminds him of the parties he would host as a small child, attended by his stuffed animals and his parents and sometimes other people from the giant family that was Haly’s, and for just that moment he’ll feel suspended somewhere between grief and content.

Barbara:

Barbara had lots of stuffed animals growing up, but as she got older, she gave most of them away. The only one she kept was a little otter that her father gave her for her first birthday. She doesn’t remember this, of course, but they have an old home video of that day which she���s seen a few times, and she know it’s one of her dad’s favorites to watch when he’s feeling nostalgic. She does remember the way she used to drag the otter with her everywhere she went when she was about four, and it’s so worn now that all of its original fluffiness has disappeared. She sets it up near her main computer and uses it in place of a rubber duck.

Jim:

When Babs decided she was too old for her stuffed animals, Jim was instructed to give them away at one of the Gotham children’s toy drives he helps run as commissioner. Only about half of them ever make it out of the house, because he keeps looking at them and remembering little moments that involve each of them. He has two boxes full of them that he swears he’s going to bring to the next drive, but he’s been swearing that for over ten years now.

Jason:

When Jason first arrived at the manor, he swore up and down that stuffed animals were dumb kids toys that he was way too old for. The first time Dick showed up at the manor after Jason was there, he brought a plush dog he’d picked up on the way there, unsure what to get his surprise new brother but not putting an excess of thought into it either. After all, he wasn’t about to ask Bruce what Jason might like. Jason made a show of scorn and tossing the toy in the trash, but when Dick was gone he dug it back out. When he was sleeping, he clutched the dog protectively against his chest like it might be snatched away at any time. When he wasn’t sleeping, he kept it hidden in a box wedged under a floorboard beneath the bed, alongside his other contraband. It was there when he died and it’s still there now. Every time he’s in the manor, he thinks about sneaking into his old room to retrieve it, alongside some of his other old belongings, but he never does. His reasoning alternates between not caring, being too old for toys, not wanting to set foot in his old room, and not wanting to get caught caring after all these years.

He does however have an obnoxiously long bright red snake that Roy won at some sort of archery carnival game while they were supposed to be tracking a suspect. He’d griped at Roy for wasting time with frivolous games, a complaint that was very on brand for their relationship. He’s pretty sure Roy saw through him, though, and understood the real reason he was so antsy to leave the carnival, given his soft apology later that night. He also recently acquired a floppy stingray, a gift from Lian for his latest birthday. She told him that she’d gotten to pet a stingray at the aquarium where she’d bought it, and it reminded her of him. Specifically, she’d said he was, “Kinda dangerous and maybe a little scary, but actually really soft to anyone who’s nice enough”. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that description, but the gift had a place of pride, resting atop an old model of his helmet that Roy had “defaced” with a sweet message that always made Jason smile.

Cass:

Cass grew up without stuffed animals, and was honestly a little confused at first about why she might want one. The first one she ever got was a tiny key-chain cat that was given to her by a little girl she saved. She was unsure what to make of the object itself, but she treasured it as a symbol, proof that she was doing good in the world. It was Steph who convinced her to look for more, to look for stuffed animals in her “style”. Eventually, she got two of the most different ones she could find: an iridescent octopus packed tightly with beans and made of a coarse fabric, and a large fluffy goose that squished like a cloud and was made of the softest fabric imaginable. She likes tossing the octopus lightly in the air to feel the weight of it, and faceplanting into the giant goose. She also has a big bear holding a plush heart that Steph got her for their first Valentine’s.

Tim:

Tim’s relationship with stuffed animals is a bit more complicated. He had five growing up: a dog, a bear, a lion, a rabbit, and a lamb. They had names, stories, personalities, and they were his friends (his only friends, at the time). When he was seven, he woke up one day to find them gone. His mother scolded him for his tears, explaining that he was too old for baby toys, and that his attachment to them would only hinder his path forward. For years, he felt ashamed whenever he thought of his grief towards them, because he knew they were just toys, he knew he was being a baby about it, and yet…

It wasn’t until he was fifteen years old and stumbled across an article about autistic people and the projection of feelings onto objects that he understood why he had been willing to sneak out at night to search through pawn store after pawn store and – once – the landfill in the hopes of seeing his beloved toys again. As a teen in the Wayne household, he knew he could get as many stuffed animals as he liked, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so after what had happened before. He got one giant, floppy moose, barely half a foot shorter than himself, that he clings to like an octopus when he manages to lay down, whether he succeeds in falling asleep or not. Additionally, on a night after Jason made amends with the family, Tim returned to his room to find a fifteen inch plush latte with a cute little face on the mug portion and a sticky note on top that simply read: Sorry for trying to kill you a bunch. My bad :) He keeps it on top of his dresser, and while he doesn’t really hug it, he did discover it was the perfect object for chucking at his siblings’ heads whenever the situation calls for it.

Steph:

Steph loves stuffed animals. While she never got any of the fancy brand name ones, or the luxuriously soft ones, or the hyper-realistic ones, her mom had a tradition of buying her one for every birthday, Christmas, and Easter. She soon had quite a collection, and – like Tim – she gave them all names and personalities. She played out complex scenarios with them and the few dolls she had, designing an intricate world of wild concepts and plots. She also used her stuffed animals to conquer her fears, like thunderstorms and darkness, by pretending they were all more scared than she was, so she had to be brave for all of them. Steph still has her whole collection, as well as quite a few “nicer” (though equally loved) ones that she has acquired from various Waynes. At this point, pretty much everyone in the Wayne family has given her a stuffed animal at some time or other. For a couple of years now, she has taken to posing with her massive collection and making fake family Christmas cards to send out to everyone she knows, where she will update them on the well-being of any plushie they’ve given her.

Duke:

Duke also has a great love of stuffed animals, although he doesn’t match Steph for quantity. He only had a few beloved animals growing up, all of which he’s held onto (a panda, a penguin, a turtle, a frog, a leopard, and a pikachu). Since being fostered by Bruce, Duke has taken to searching out and buying only the rarest stuffed animals he can find: an anteater, a platypus, a manatee, a sloth, and an axolotl have made the cut so far. Bruce knows about this and has taken to keeping an eye out for anything interesting whenever he’s out. After accidentally mentioning it at a gala one time, it has since become his favorite topic, as getting drawn into an intense discussion with Bruce Wayne about where to acquire strange plushies for his son elicits one of two reactions from his guests: delighted awws or hilariously awkward attempts to steer the conversation back to high society definitions of business and pleasure. At Duke’s request, a large shelf was built around the top of his room, so that all of his stuffed animals can sit comfortably and be clearly seen.

Damian:

Damian was much like Jason when he arrived at the manor in more ways than one, but his determination to prove himself above stuffed animals was certainly on that list. He sneered at his siblings’ attempts to treat him like the child he swore he wasn’t. And honestly, even after he began to lower his walls just a little, he still wasn’t particularly fond of stuffed animals. Sure, he privately thought they were cute, and sure he might (might) find himself holding one at night if it happened to have been left in his bed by an annoying sibling, but in general he preferred live animals to fake ones. Real animals had personalities and feelings, fake ones did not, it was as simple as that, no matter what Stephanie claimed. But as time went on, Damian found himself acquiring a small army of stuffed animals against his will. Some of his siblings (Jason, Tim, sometimes Duke) gave them to him because they found it funny to watch him growl about how he was not an infant in need of deceitful comforts. Some of his siblings (Dick, Cass, sometimes Duke… sometimes his father as well) would give them to him because they knew he liked animals so they assumed he’d like imitations of animals as well. Steph would just give them to everybody, every now and then. But regardless of motive, Damian soon found his room overflowing with stuffed animals that were moderately cute but ultimately pointless.

It wasn’t until a patrol a few years after he’d taken on the mantle of Robin that he discovered a solution. Tim had hidden a tiny stuffed bear in the medical supply compartment of his utility belt, a felt bandage wrapped around its little head. He hadn’t been wounded, but the young girl he’d rescued had been bleeding from a wound that looked worryingly dirty. The bear had fallen out of the pouch, right into her lap, and she’d stared at it with wide eyes, surprise halting the flow of her tears. She’d held onto it the whole time he disinfected her arm and bandaged it, and afterwards he had insisted she keep it. For the first time that night, she’d smiled. After that, Damian began taking a few of his many stuffed animals out on patrol with him, ready to hand out to any and all injured, lost, or otherwise traumatized children once he’d rescued them from their troubles. Eventually he began running out of toys he’d been gifted, even though he kept getting new ones, so at some point he begins to regularly sneak out for the sole purpose of acquiring stuffed animals to hand out. He never tells his siblings, but he suspects they’ve found out anyway, when the presents they give him drastically decrease in size.

[mushroommushy]

Lukalix December

Day 31 - Kisses

———————————————————————

The team was all gathered at a party that was hosted in a hall at the Le Grand Paris, Queen Bee having been the one to get them invited. While normally they would’ve been bored, Roi Singe and Carapace had spiced things up with a dj set and boom boxes. Similar to Jagged Stone’s concert all those months ago, there were bright and colorful lights blaring over the dance floor and dining hall. Bunnix had altered her suit to be slightly more formal. While others were wearing suit or dress modifications of their super suits, she didn’t generally like dresses and had chosen a loose fitting suit to wear in her signature colors of bright blue and white. Red had quickly joined that line up when Viperion had delivered several compliments to her, making a few nosy party goers lean over in interest.

Viperion was currently holding her hand as the clock read 11:50 PM, dancing with her gently through the night with her guiding his dance movements as she was more familiar with the ritual. “I’ve never been to a party like this..it’s so formal..” Bunnix’s face softened slightly, pulling him closer to her. “I know, but you’ll get used to it eventually. I didn’t like them either and I still don’t but I have no choice but to attend the ones I go to in my civilian life.” She didn’t mention anything more than that, as she knew there were still people listening to try and get a hint on her identity, as well as to be bothersome to try and get a hint on their relationship. Their closeness was something the public had yet to be seen since they started dating, which still wasn’t knowledge to anyone, even the team minus a few people. That being Ladybug, Chat Noir, Tigress and Phoenix.

The clock ticked closer to 12:00 AM, tiredness starting to tug at her eyes. She had gotten decent sleep this week with Ladybug allowing her and her partner better sleep after Sass had told her about them having a chance at akumatization due to stress. With her being the way she was, she immediately dove on top of getting a way to prevent that from happening in every way possible, allowing them to have a break from patrolling and showing up to fights unless absolutely needed for awhile. They had enjoyed several days already, cuddled up in either of their beds to watch movies to erase memories of haunting timelines. Even if they tormented them in their nightmares they knew they would wake up safe in the others arms. Last night she had woken to Luka sitting up with a sharp and sudden cry of fear and clinging to her with nails digging into the back of her shirt as she coaxed him back to sleep. She never minded, since he had done the same for her when she had vivid hallucinations of his death replaying in front of her.

Suddenly a count down started, couples rushing towards each other from conversations with friends to get ready for the traditional New Years kiss. Carapace had pulled Rena up onto his stand, holding her close up above on a balcony where his DJ set was. Bunnix gripped onto Viperion’s clothes, knowing that their secrecy with their relationship would end in a few moments to everyone but four people in the room. The clock finally ticked down as it hit Midnight, the snake hero turning her chin towards him and away from the count down as their lips met in a sweet kiss. A smile spread across her face, tasting a bit of chocolate from the sweets he had been having earlier. A snort nearly left her when he playfully nibbled on her lip with the fangs he possessed as an animal side effect, electing her to finally pull away.

Already a few people were whispering, sending a slight wave of embarrassment through her but Viperion stood strong, answering with a strong yes when people clamored to ask if they were a couple. Ladybug swung down from her wire to form a permitter around the two after seeing that they got flooded with questions after he confirmed it. “Alright, back up! Give them some space they don’t need you guys asking a million questions at once. I’m sure you’ll get them answered in a interview soon.” Bunnix sighed in relief, silently blessing Ladybug’s soul for calming down the crowd and whispering a silent thank you to her friend.

The party soon ended, both of them quickly getting out of their to avoid party goers but not before Rena had detransformed and asked for an interview on the relationship. At that, Bunnix had picked Alya up in her arms and leaped up onto the roof and ran to the bloggers home with her lover following her quickly. They landed on the balcony, plopping down on the couch as Alya rushed to set up her filming gear. She cleared her throat, starting the camera rolling. “Hey Peeps, Alya here with an exclusive interview with our time travel duo once more! New spill, they kissed during the New Years party at Le Grand Paris and people are curious and have a few questions for you two!”

Bunnix’s head dropped onto his shoulder, tiredness once again pulling at her eyes due to being used to being asleep at this time now. “How long have you two been dating?” Viperion’s voice sounded fuzzy and faded out to her as he answered. “About two months now. It’s been great.” Alya scrolled through her tablet before pausing again. “Have you been on dates yet?” Bunnix had already tuned out, half asleep with her eyes now closed and ears drooping over them to block out light. “More often as civilians but a few times in hero form. Last time it was Paris before it was a city and just a forest.” He chuckled. He glanced over, looking at his sleeping partner. “Ah- I suppose I should get going. She’s already out. We’ve been sleeping in more so she’s probably tired thanks to sleep schedules. Happy New Years to you all! Have a good one!” He lifted up his girlfriend and quickly hopped out the window, launching himself in the direction of the Louvre so they could settle in for the night finally.

[ladecena]

DREAM💃💫

Mich Delavega’s ambition is to be a dancer, but her father has refused to support her for no apparent reason. Is she willing to take a chance? Did she carry on with her aspirations despite her father’s disapproval? Was she brave enough to fight for what she truly desired?

I’m strolling slowly down the corridor, thinking about what happened the day before. Dad and I got into an argument over what I wanted, and when he found out that I was secretly competing in a dance competition, he was upset and demanded me to stop. It’s strange until he brings up the matter of my cousin’s accident. What a pitiful excuse, yet it’s true. 

Danica was the first person I met. It’s just me and my one and only best pal. She greeted me with a grin and handed me a piece of paper. It’s a Dance Battle Poster for our Students Days

Flashback

I’m looking forward to coming back home. Danica and I attended a competition altogether. This is our sixth win in this competition; we always enter but keep it a secret from Dad because if he finds out, he will be furious. Dancing is really something he despises. I’m not sure why, but it began when I begged with Dad to enroll me in a dance class. He encouraged me to stop, but I’m a stubborn person, and then there was an accident because my cousin was causing difficulty because of the dance, and my father became upset, as if she was cursing the dance for the rest of his life.

As I arrived home, I found my mother watching TV on the couch and my father reading the newspaper when I opened the door. I approach them from behind and give them a kiss on their cheeks.

When I saw the diploma, prize, and tape of my dance practice and competition, my eyes widened.

“Tell me, what is this Mich Delavega!”

My father was constantly yelling. I put my hands over my ears and close them. I’m terrified.

“How long? 3 years? Did you just spend all of my money on dancing?”

While I was crying, my mother sat next to me and embraced me so tightly. Why was Dad acting so strangely? In my head, I said.

End of flashback

That day has stayed with me to this day. I’m in the library at my school. I’m pursuing BSBA since it’s what my father wants me to do. They are businessmen/women, and I am the next in line to become our company’s CEO.

After a few hours, school was over. We were both eager to go home, so I got to work right away. Danica, on the other hand, interrupted me. She invites me to join her in a studio with her.

We don’t need to drive because Jigs Studio is close to our school. We arrived at the studio’s entrance. When I hear music blaring, my heart jumps. It really is as if it’s encouraging me to move, sway, and enjoy the beat. I smile quietly at myself.

I’m really looking forward to the battle. I can’t seem to stop grinning. This is my dream, which my father has thwarted.

The competition was about to start when we found a seat.

“Hello there, everyone! Thank you for attending this battle. I know you’re all excited to see this, so let’s get this fight started between Black mamba and Higher kids!!!!” The host said

 And we’re all clapping, and I can hear some audience members shouting from every nook and cranny of the studio. In a few moments, the two contestants will be here, facing each other. Each contender will showcase their moves on the platform in the first round. In round two, they choose one member to defy their group and battle against the other, and in round three, one of the audience members will perform the song that they have picked.

We’ve been through much too much. Danica and I had a good time during the match. When I returned home, I found my mother seated on our couch, watching television.

“Hello, mom,” I said, smiling.

“What’s the matter with you? Are you all right?” My mum replied casually

“Mom, I’m fine. By the way, I need to get some sleep.”

I went to my room, changed into my pajamas, and fell asleep in my bed.

I awakened the next morning with a playful smirk on my face. Today I’m in such a great mood. I get out of bed and begin my morning routine.

I excitedly entered our kitchen, and while I ate my breakfast, mom noticed me and kissed me on the cheeks.

I finished my meal and went to see my father. I need to tell him something when I’m in the backyard, I smell some burning plastic. I walked to where it came from and my jaw dropped when I saw my things get burnt.

"Daddddddddddd!”

I raced up to him and tried to stop him, but it was too late; my possessions had went up in flames. While observing the fire, I slam myself on the grass. When the fires are all out, I stare angrily at my father.

"You deserve it. This is your punishment." 

"What do you mean Dad?! I’m not sure why you feel that way and you need to burn my stuffs, which were extremely valuable to me!”

I cried as I ran inside our home.

Mom came in my room to console me. When she saw my sad face, she looked so sorrowful.

“You’re aware of how much I cherish you. You are my daughter. You grew up beside me. I fell madly in love with those beautiful eyes the first time I saw you. Even though it was difficult for me to accept those gorgeous eyes, I did so because I believe that if I put my hand on you, you’d be mine. You are going to be my daughter. She cried as she stated it.

"Why are you bringing this up now, Mom?” As I stated earlier

Moms, like dads, have an odd habit of saying gibberish.

“Sweetheart I’m not your biological mother.”

“You can’t play at me like that, mom, I’m not a fool.”

“Please accept my apologies.”

When she apologizes, I take a serious expression on my face. Is this true? Is this a dream? If that’s the case, kindly wake me up. I despise these feeling. I turned to face my mother, who was sobbing in front of me. A lot of people were staring at us as well. To grab her attention, I mimic a cough.

“What is her name? What is the name of my mother?”

“Your mother Mich is your father’s first wife.”

“Is that my father’s explanation? Why is he putting pressure on me to give up my ambition of becoming a dancer?” Mom gave me a nod as I spoke.

Dad walked on me and looked me in the eyes.

“She is, she’s your mother. That is why I do not want you to pursue a career as a dancer. That dream will destroy you, as well as our family. "My father’s eyes welled up with tears as he spoke.

It was the first time I had ever seen him cry. "Is it a lot of pain?” In my head, I asked.

“Your mother abandoned us. She had only just given birth and had already departed. She is unconcerned about us. She is more dedicated to her passion than the rest of us, and I don’t want you to follow in her footsteps. That’s why I’m putting a halt to you.

"Dad embraced me and grabbed my shoulder.”

"Can you put your faith in me, Dad? I will never abandon you, father, as she did.” I said this while gazing him in the eyes. He turned around to avoid looking at me.

I take my father’s hand in mine. While I’m face the ground, he glances at me.

“I apologize for not being a good parent to you. I’m sorry that I’ve gotten selfish since I’m a useless father. I let you show me what you were passionate about.”

“Do your best,” he added as he walked away. 

“I’ll make my dad proud!” I said

Tomorrow morning, I arrived at Danica’s house, we agreed to enter a dance competition. All I know is that I want to impress my family, so Danica and I put in a lot of preparation and effort before the competition, and it is quite difficult for us.

The competition will begin in three weeks. We’re both exhausted, but we’re having a great time.

Danica and I are both excited and worried on the day of the completion. Our names are called by the presenter after several hours, and we confidently walk up to the stage.

I began to sexily dance in a chair. It’s wonderful. Dance made me feel strong, seductive, and fearless! There’s something about dancing in a new and vulnerable way in my heart that makes me happy. To be honest, when I did chair dance, I felt like an acrobatic goddess.

Danica moves sexily in the chair as well, lowering her upper body to the seat and slowly lifting her feet off the floor until her legs are in the air. She pauses for a second to catch her breath before smiling.

We ended the song by posing beautifully in front of a lot of people clapping on us. We smiled and hugged each other.

“We made it!” I whisper

In the end, we succeeded. We’re ecstatic because this is the first time I’ve ever danced in front of many audience, and my father is seeing me perform live.

We’re still here to thank everyone in the crowd and the judges, even though the program is ended.

In back stage, I saw my family.

“Mom! Dad!” I shouted something and dashed over to hug them.

“You did a great job, sweetheart,” my mother replied, beaming.

I fixed my gaze on my father. Before we departed, he gave Danica and me a bunch of flowers and congratulated us.

When we came home, I went straight to my room to rest, and then my father called me. I take a few steps forward and open the door.

“Hello, Dad!” He smiled at me and instructed me to be in my room.

He handed me a medium-sized box and added, “I forgot to give this to you.” I’m happy for you. This should be kept.

“Thank you, Dad!” I said

I was shocked when I found a necklace and key, as well as a camera and two papers. I take the key first and turn to face my father.

“I bought one of the studios near our house,” he continued, “so you and Danica can practice there.”

“I know you wanted to go to a dancing school when you were younger, but I’m not permitting it; nonetheless, I believe it’s not too late to join you, right?!” I hugged him tightly and cried.

“Thank you dad, you made me happy. Thank you so much! I promise you I will work hard to make you proud. ”

“You don’t need to work hard to make me proud because right now I’m so proud of you.”

We smiled and hugged one other passionately.

I run into a lot of challenges in this world as a result of pursuing my dream. Nothing can readily obtain it. Before we can get what we really want, we need to go through the needle hole. We must be strong and confident, but we must also remember to smile. To all of us, Dream is really significant because it leads to success. So keep dreaming and, if you truly want something, take a chance, even if it seems impossible. I am Mich Delavega, A Business Woman and a Professional Dancer.

- peachy k. 🍑 

June 10, 2021

[cowboyshit]

Only for the Holidays (pt 3)

Ship: Adam “Hangman” Page and Ivy (OFC) Summary: Adam and Ivy cross paths at a mutual friend’s holiday party and hit it off, both admitting they’ve grown tired of constantly being asked about having a partner at the various holiday events they have to attend. They come to an agreement to pretend to date for the holidays to get their friends and family off their backs, but neither of them admit that they’ve had an attraction to each other from the beginning. Will these feelings come to a head? Or will the pair be able to stick to their original plan and only get through the holidays together? Rating: general/fluff Length: 5,484 words part THREE of THREE (part one, part two), the fic can also be read in it’s entirety on ao3 (here)

author’s note: and alas! the final installment of this little fake-dating series I wrote for viv’s @12daysofchristmas​ challenge! I hope you guys enjoy the finale to this sweet little story, it was nice to write something so warm and fluffy for the holidays even if I was writing it all by the seat of my pants and didn’t have anything planned LOL

Ivy’s phone chimed, indicating a new text message had come through. Pausing in wrapping the last of the gifts she had left, she leaned over and grabbed it to look at the screen. There was a new text message from Adam. A smile immediately turned the corners of her mouth and she quickly opened their text conversation.

How’s your voice doing?

She laughed and immediately tapped out a reply. Better. I actually have one today! 

She had lost her voice while screaming at the live Dynamite show his friends invited her to a couple days ago. She’d never been one of the kids who watched wrestling growing up and knew only vaguely what it was about, but she’d had an even better time than she expected. The show they’d put on was fast and full of stunts and surprises Ivy would have never expected. They’d also been absolutely right about it being fun to watch ringside, though she’d had to fight through nerves any time the camera men pointed those large cameras her way. She’d screamed so much by the time she woke up the next morning she’d all but lost her voice.

Watching Adam perform in the ring had been something else entirely. The things he was able to do astonished her. He had to explain what all the moves were called after the match as she excitedly babbled backstage, but he’d seemed like he was glowing when he had. Her favorite had been the “flippy thing he did in the middle” (the shooting star press) and the “flippy thing he did off the pole” (the moonsault off the ring post). She liked the way his blond curls fluffed out and floated, catching the white lights that lit the ring as he maintained control and soared through the air. The athleticism and strength he possessed was amazing. She remembered her delighted surprise when he caught his opponent mid-leap, carried him to the center of the ring, tossed him over and popped up in a smooth kip up that had her eyes gone wide. She’d seen his muscles when she caught herself admiring him, but she hadn’t realized just how strong he was.

Her phone chimed again and distracted her from daydreaming about watching him shirtless and sweaty, getting riled up in the ring. She felt suddenly warm and blushed, looking down at his message.

What are you up to tonight?

They’d been doing this a lot lately. Just texting idly throughout their days, even though her family party wasn’t until tomorrow night. It had started with her asking questions about what to wear to a wrestling show and him giving her details for where she’d need to go, but they always sort of fell into carrying the conversation beyond that. He was just… easy to talk to.

Easy on the eyes, too.

Ivy shook her head at herself and sent him a reply. Wrapping up the last of the gifts to take over tomorrow night. 

Oh shoot, was I supposed to get something for your mom?

Ivy couldn’t help but smile. You’re a brand new “boyfriend” she’s never met before, remember? She doesn’t even know about your existence, you don’t have to get her anything. Besides, the family does a big gift exchange cause there’s too many people to individually buy for, and you and I have a joint gift I already bought.

What did we get for the gift exchange? Another quick reply. The notifications were popping up that he read her message as soon as she sent it, which meant he had their conversation actively open.

Ivy opened her camera app and snapped a picture of the still-to-be-wrapped box set full of all the tools necessary to make delicious hot cocoa, as well as peppermint bark, a little bottle of peppermint schnapps and one of chocolate liqueur. She sent the picture to him and typed: A giftset to make spiked hot cocoa! 

What are the rules on getting your own gift in the gift exchange? That sounds good. Never spiked my cocoa with peppermint before.

Ivy’s fingers jumped quick to type her message: Really? I don’t do it often since I just like cocoa by itself, but it’s pretty tasty! I’ll have to make it for you some time. She clicked send before reading it back over, then looked at the message and felt her eyes go wide. She should make it for him sometime? When? When they were at her family’s big gettogether, pretending to date so her family wouldn’t make her feel bad for being single? Or when they supposedly “broke up” a few weeks later?

His reply didn’t come back as immediately as the others did. Worry twisted in her stomach.

That would be nice, I’d like that. His reply chimed back. He was just being polite, obviously. She sent a little smiling emoji in reply and closed their conversation, setting her phone aside as she decided to distract herself by finishing wrapping up gifts. After, she could pick what she’d be wearing tomorrow night to the party. Of course she’d been silly to think she could avoid catching some sort of feelings, even a passing infatuation for a cute, sweet, blond-haired cowboy. He clearly hadn’t (she remembered his playful promise that they wouldn’t fall for each other) and she wasn’t going to make him uncomfortable by pursuing something he clearly didn’t feel.

When her phone stayed dark and no further messages came through to carry on their conversation, Ivy knew she was right.

**********

He’d already been nervous the whole day leading up to when he was going to pick Ivy up at her place, but seeing her coming out of the house in her pretty red holiday dress made his mouth go dry. He was a step behind climbing out of the cab to go around and pop the door open for her like a gentleman ought to, too caught up with staring at her walk down the steps of her porch. His fingers curled around the handle as she waited by the passenger side of his truck, rocking a little in her heels. Her smile picked up as she thanked him for opening her door. Adam smiled, but still had to look away from her for a moment.

She was so damn pretty… but it wasn’t just physical. Something had changed for him that night she came out to see him wrestle. He’d felt different in the ring. More energized. He hadn’t been able to stop grinning as he watched her excitedly talk about everything she’d liked afterwards. He’d asked her question after question just to keep her talking. Adam made her tell him everything she liked and didn’t like about the entire night and had laughed as he explained what the different lingo meant. They’d ordered late night food to Daily’s Place and stayed up talking with each other and sometimes with the other wrestlers who were still lingering about.

The next morning he woke up and he missed her. None of this was fake, not any more. Not for him, anyways. Her promise to make him spiked hot cocoa sometime had sat on his mind all night, and it popped up again as he climbed back into the cab and pulled away from the curb. Was it a joke he wasn’t supposed to look too far into? Was she just being nice? Or was that her way of telling him she thought they should keep seeing one another?

This night, her family’s party, was meant to be the last time they were technically together. Every minute that ticked by was one more they wouldn’t have… unless she liked him the way he liked her. Adam just needed to find the right time to ask her. Maybe he’d wait until after the party, he thought, glancing over at her and smiling as she checked her lipstick in the visor mirror. Yeah, that sounded fair. They’d have a good time tonight and in a week or so, he’d reach out and see how she was and find some way to bring it up, even if every time he thought about how much he liked her he got butterflies in his stomach and felt like his tongue swelled up.

She gave him the last of the directions and he slowed his truck as they pulled up to a country home set on at least a good acre of land. The large two-story home was glowing warm out its many windows and was strung up in pretty, twinkling lights. When he parked, he noticed just how many cars were around them.

“Your family really doesn’t mess around, huh?” She’d warned him that her family went all out for the holidays, all the generations rotating households for hosting each year. This year just so happened to be the year her parents were hosting.

“They really don’t,” she said with a laugh as they walked side-by-side up the walkway leading to the porch. Automatic, Adam’s hand reached and curled around hers. She slid her eyes toward him and then smiled and looked at all the cars they were passing, starting to mutter to herself who all had already showed up.

“These are all your relatives?” Adam wasn’t unfamiliar with big family gatherings - his entire upbringing had been Sunday lunches at his grandma’s with all the family in attendance - but he hadn’t anticipated this many people.

“Yeah,” she laughed. “Grandma and Grandpa had eleven kids and each of those kids has gotten married and has kids and every one of their kids except for one have had their own kids. Hell, there’s even a new great-grandbaby this year.”

“Wow,” Adam laughed and shook his head, walking up the porch steps and feeling his nerves rise inside. 

“The only one who hasn’t had grandkids?” She asked as they stopped in front of the door, her brow arching. “My mom. Because I haven’t had any, and neither has my brother. So… just be ready in case she decides the first time meeting you is the right moment to start slipping baby name ideas to you.”

Adam chuckled. “Thank you for the warning.”

“Alright, brace yourself.” She smiled and turned the knob to open the large wood door with its pretty glass-front window design. 

Immediately there was warmth and laughter and underneath the mix of chatter was the soft sounds of low-volume classic Christmas music. String lights hung around the home offered lovely soft yellow lighting, with red ribbons and garland all around. It was beautiful enough to be seen on television, or so Adam thought. As he looked around the living area he tried to picture it without the holiday decorations, the home Ivy grew up in. What kind of kid had she been? Was she bold and adventurous or careful and shy? He looked over at her profile and realized their hands were still clasped. 

The nearest people greeted Ivy as she passed and she only took her hand from his to give hugs, catching up with quick questions of how everyone was doing and introducing Adam as they went. By the time he met the sixth or seventh person he realized he was already getting names mixed up. Adam cursed himself and glanced back from where they’d came, squinting as he looked at the faces he’d seen and trying to remember what had been said when they’d been introduced to him not even a minute ago.

“There you are sweetheart! Come here!” A jovial looking woman, short with round hips and waves of gold-blond hair came toward Ivy with open arms. She grabbed her up in a hug and squeezed her tight, even though Ivy groaned.

“Mom! You act like you haven’t seen me in years!” She complained.

“Oh like your mom can’t shower you in love every time you see her.” Her mother shook her head as she pulled away, only then seeming to notice Adam. Her eyes went wide. “Who’s this?” She looked back at Ivy for an explanation.

“My name’s Adam, ma’am.” Adam knew when and how to lay on the charm and he’d promised Ivy he’d be the perfect so-called boyfriend to keep her mother off her back. He extended a hand for a polite shake. 

“Mom, this is my…” Ivy and Adam’s eyes met. Her expression softened. “My boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Her mom echoed, still holding on to Adam’s hand as she looked from her daughter back to him. “Well! Has he met everyone yet? Did you get him something to drink? What do you want sweetheart? We have eggnog, homemade!” And, still holding on to his hand, Ivy’s mom started to drag him away, ignoring Ivy’s protests that she was introducing him slowly to the family and they’d make their way to the kitchen eventually.

Ivy hadn’t been kidding when she said her family - and her mother - could be a little overwhelming. Although rather than leaving him anxious and strung tight, it was that good kind of overwhelming that instead had him dizzy with warmth and love. Adam was dragged around the house, introduced to everyone he hadn’t met yet (and even those he had) as Ivy followed and kept trying to get her mother to relinquish her hold on him in between apologizing for her mother’s behavior. Truthfully, Adam was struggling to hold back a smile. She was cute, concerned and fussing over him like that, putting those big, pleading eyes on his as she begged him to just hold out a little bit longer.

Finally their trip rounded them back in a circle where her mother was beckoned from the kitchen to help set up more snack trays. Adam and Ivy were left alone (relatively, of course, he noticed there were people grouped throughout the living area) and as they met one another’s eyes he widened his and exhaled an exhausted breath.

“Wow.”

“I know!” Her brows dipped inward, creating little wrinkle lines on her forehead. She reached out and put a hand on his forearm and he felt the muscle tense, electricity up his skin from her touch. “I’m so sorry Adam. I told you she’s relentless and was going to want everyone to meet my boyfriend.”

“If I’m bein’ honest, I felt like a well-bred stud being marched around and shown off.”

“Oh my god!” Ivy snickered and then groaned. Her hand slipped off his arm and he wished he could reach out and put a hand on her hip just to keep them touching. “It was exactly like that. Once she knew you were on t.v. it was all over.” She shook her head, sighing. “I’m sorry, your friends weren’t nearly as much as my mom has been. And this is only the first half hour of the night.”

Adam laughed and as cute as she was worried over him, he decided he’d calm those fears of hers. He started to lift his hand, wanting to push his palm against her cheek and gently hold her face, then remembered himself and let it drop to his side. He cleared his throat and shrugged.

“Nah, I honestly don’t mind it at all. It’s done wonders for my confidence.” His grin stretched playfully into his bearded cheeks.

“You’re a saint,” Ivy laughed and he was happy to see she was happy.

“What about you?” He asked, “I know we’ve only been here a little bit but is it helping?” He hoped it was.

“It is!” She said without hesitation. “That whole time my mom was dragging you around to show you off would have been spent with her reliving my exes to me, asking me where they’re at now, or telling me about women she knows who have single sons my age, or this cute young man my age she met at the grocery store and struck up a conversation with and got his number for me.”

Adam blew another breath out of his mouth. “I’m glad I can help.” But a frown worked its way across his brow. Ivy was a smart, successful, capable woman all on her own. It wasn’t fair that her mother only considered her relationship something to discuss and didn’t pay attention to everything else her daughter was. “You okay?” She asked, and he realized she’d been watching him and seen his change in expression.

“Oh, sorry. Yeah.” But she still peered at him and he knew this wasn’t the place to broach a serious topic like that. “When are you going to tell her about the promotion?”

“Honestly I was so busy trying to keep her from smothering you I completely forgot.” She laughed. “I guess I’ll tell her after the gifts are over. Anyways, come on-” she grabbed his hand, tingles again “-let’s go load up our plates with finger foods. It’s the best part of the whole night.”

Adam grinned, following after her as she held his hand, twining his fingers around hers and thinking about how whole he felt.

*********

The entire evening was better than Ivy could have anticipated. She knew it was mostly due to having Adam as her near-constant company, and feeling warmly closer to him than they probably had any right to be. During the gift exchange they’d claimed a spot on one of the couches and like it was natural, Ivy had leaned into him, Adam had lifted his arm and wrapped it snug around her shoulders. They’d shared a little smile then both looked away, staying cuddled up throughout the entirety of the exchange.

It had come to an end as the last gift was opened and she still didn’t move to get up from leaning on Adam’s soft yet somehow firm body. He didn’t try to lift his arm to separate them, either. Their supposedly shared gift sat at their feet in front of the couch, a large fluffy blanket that she’d had to have the moment she felt it and a Starbucks gift card. Absolutely perfect.

Conversation flowed happily around the room. Ivy and Adam were listening as her father retold his favorite Christmas story - the night Ivy was six and they’d had to come to a sudden stop on snowy roads, after the car righted itself there was a little gathering of stags that’d run out of the woods. Ivy had started to cry, worried that they were Santa’s reindeer and had gotten lost, meaning Santa wouldn’t be able to deliver presents that evening.

“I had to sit there and explain all about the differences between reindeer and white-tails and promise her the whole way home that Santa was going to be able to come that night.” Her father was grinning near ear-to-ear as he chuckled.

Ivy rolled her eyes, but smiled. She was tired of hearing the story every year but it was clearly endearing to her father. Adam, hearing it for the first time, had seemed to enjoy listening to it too.

“She was so cute kicking up a fuss like that.” Her father said warmly.

“I’ll bet she was.” Adam said. Ivy glanced quickly up at him only to see his eyes were locked on hers. Her stomach felt as if it erupted in a wild fluttering of butterflies and she swallowed, feeling a little hot in her cheeks. This was more… wasn’t it? They were being more coupley, weren’t they? Even more than they’d been at his company holiday party. Was their being together, their touching and holding hands becoming more natural to him, too? Or was she going crazy, projecting and seeing the things she wanted to see to justify how she felt about him now?

The questions would drive her insane, she needed to change the topic.

Ivy cleared her throat and looked back at her parents. “I’m getting a promotion at work.”

“Are you?” Her mother gasped.

“That’s wonderful sweetheart,” her father praised with a smile. “When did you find out?”

“A few weeks ago,” Ivy smiled, suddenly feeling almost shy with Adam’s proud gaze on her, his hand gently rubbing up and down her arm. The skimming of his fingertips on her skin was almost distracting.

“Why did you wait so long to tell us?!” Her mother admonished. “Sweetheart, that’s amazing! You’ve been working so hard, it’s about time they recognized it.”

“Thank you mom,” Ivy laughed.

“How’s the pay increase?” Her dad asked.

Ivy shook her head. “It’s actually pretty impressive if I’m being honest.” She’d already started to daydream about all the things in her life she was going to invest in and upgrade. “I’ve been working my ass off to get this promotion.”

“Well!” Her mother was beaming and her eyes slid to Adam and back to Ivy, her smile getting a mischievous little twist. Oh no, thought Ivy. “With more money you’d be able to support a child.” She winked as though they shared an inside secret, then gave that same wink to Adam. “I happen to think I’d make the perfect grandmother.”

Ivy’s heart sank, even with Adam at her side, she was still incomplete. She was sure her mother didn’t mean it, but it still stung. Before she could say something wrong and upset her mother or change the subject entirely, Adam was speaking up.

“With all due respect, ma’am, Ivy and I just started dating; we’re a little far off from seeing how compatible we are or if children are even something either of us want.”

“Oh, of course,” her mother looked taken aback. Ivy gaped at Adam and wasn’t sure if she should pinch him or kiss him for speaking up to her mother.

Adam looked at her, seemed to hesitate, then started talking again. “I know you’re proud of your daughter,” he glanced back toward her parents, who were now watching him with slightly guarded expressions, “but when you jump straight to talking about her lack of children or who she’s dating, it makes it seem like that’s all you care about. I know it’s not my place to say, but I also know it bothers her, and she shouldn’t have to feel like she’s anything less than the amazing woman I’ve come to see she is.”

The small group was quiet. Ivy didn’t know what to say or do. Adam had talked calmly, never raising his voice, but he’d effectively checked her mother’s habit to overlook Ivy’s accomplishments. It was a bold move for a real boyfriend, even bolder for a fake one. Or, hell, maybe he figured he wouldn’t be seeing her parents again and was free to stick up for her even under their own house.

The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to grab his face and kiss him. No one had ever stood up for her like that. Still, Ivy worried over her mother’s reaction and looked back at her.

“Do I really do it that often?”

“Mom,” Ivy sighed and glanced down at her hands. She made herself look back up. “Yeah. You do. It’s why I waited so long to tell you about the promotion. I don’t know if you’re doing it on purpose, but it feels like it is. It makes me feel like…” Their voices were low enough the conversation was truly just among the four of them, but Ivy still paused to make sure no family members were listening in that she didn’t want to overhear. “Mom, you just make me feel like I’m not doing enough if I’m not seeing someone or giving you a grandchild.” Emboldened by the honesty coming out, she looked over at Adam and shook her head, realizing how ridiculous the whole thing had been to start with. “I mean, Adam and I aren’t even-”

“Aren’t even that serious yet.” He jumped in, talking over her. Ivy tilted her head, eyes on his. Why didn’t he want her to tell her parents that they weren’t actually dating?

“I’m sorry, baby,” her mother said, and when Ivy looked back saw a sheen of tears in her eyes. “I didn’t realize I’d been so awful about it to you.”

“Mom, no,” Ivy shook her head, shoulders dropping. “Don’t cry. I should have told you how much it bothered me instead of just grinning and bearing it.”

Getting up from the couch, Ivy’s mother stood up too. Immediately Ivy wrapped her arms around her mother and cuddled tight into her as her mother held her, too. “I’m sorry sweetie,” she whispered again in Ivy’s ear, squeezing her a little tighter for a moment before they let go. 

“I really am proud of you, you know that? My little Ivy put herself through college, got her dream job, is living independently, and achieving all her dreams. I can’t even begin to tell you how proud I am of you! I brag about you all the time. I just, well, I’m your mom. I worry about you being all alone. And yes, maybe I am a bit baby crazy and I’ve started pushing that off on you.” She shook her head. “You can have no kids, have ten kids, marry once, marry never, I don’t care sweetie. I’m always going to be proud of you.”

“Thank you, mom.” Ivy said, now feeling her own tears rising. She reached to wipe at her eyes, careful of her make-up.

“Hey! No crying on Christmas!” A cousin shouted, looking over and seeing her and her mother having their close, emotional talk. Ivy shook her head as laughter rippled around the room.

“It’s not Christmas, it’s December 19th!” Her mother scolded back. “We can cry all we want to.”

“I think I’m good on the crying,” Ivy laughed and looked back at her mom, softening. “Thank you, mom.”

“You don’t have to thank me for coming to my senses.”

“Well, I think it was more like you were forced to come to your senses.” Her father spoke up and slapped his thighs as he lifted off the couch to stand up with them. Adam stood up as well. 

Rubbing his hand at the back of his neck, Adam spoke up. “I’m sorry, I know that wasn’t polite of me-”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Her mother hushed him almost immediately. “I was a little shocked at first, but clearly this was something we needed to talk about.” “I think I would have preferred a less crowded house,” Ivy admitted, looking around. Most of the family was still deep in their own conversations, but she had to have imagined some of them had overheard.

“Any man who stands up for my little girl, to her own mother no less, the first time he’s meeting the family… well, that’s a man I definitely approve of for my daughter.” Ivy’s father chuckled and patted Adam on the back. “I like this one, sweetheart. He’s a good one.”

Ivy smiled as their eyes met. “Yeah, he is.”

The party carried on for a couple more hours of happy chatter until one by one the families started to slowly trickle out. Ivy and Adam were the last to leave, helping tidy up around the house despite her mother’s assurance they shouldn’t bother themselves by cleaning. It really wasn’t a bother. Ivy thought of it as a sort of sweet domesticity, picking up plates and putting leftover food away, cleaning up trash and righting the house again side-by-side with Adam. She kept sneaking glances over at him as he smiled back at her; a few times they’d reached for the same things and brushed their hands against each other. Their touches continued to linger a little longer and a little longer each time, her cheeks warm as their eyes held contact. By the end her gaze kept finding its way to his lips; she just couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t stop wondering what’d be like to kiss him.

Adam sucked in a breath as they stepped back, having finished putting the last of the food up. “I guess we should get on home?” He asked.

It was rather late, though Ivy felt hesitation she knew was due to this being their possible last moments together. If she said yes, they would walk out of the door, get in his truck, he would drive her home and drop her off and they supposedly would never see one another again. Or, well, they’d maybe see one another, but nothing like this. Nothing like tonight had been. Nothing like the past few weeks had been.

“Yeah,” she said, trying not to let any regret seep into her tone. “We probably should.”

They went to say their goodbyes to her parents, gathering their gift and the leftovers her mother pushed off on her before they finally stepped out of the house. Ivy exhaled into the cool late-night winter air as Adam closed the front door and they stood on the porch.

“Thank you,” she said, not yet descending the steps to go to his truck.

“For?” He frowned, tilting his head as he looked down at her.

“For... standing up for me? For being...you? I don’t know. I just had such a good time tonight I feel like I need to thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, darlin’.” He smiled. “I had just as good a time tonight as you, promise. Although, I do still feel like I should apologize. That wasn’t my place to talk to your mom like that.”

“Adam, it’s okay. I was a little taken aback but, honestly like my mom said, that conversation needed to happen.”

“I’m glad you’re not mad at me,” he said, his voice a little hushed. They were still lingering on the porch. Ivy felt like she could stand there all night in spite of the chill, but knew they shouldn’t. She took one last longing glance at his lips and smiled. “I doubt I could ever really be mad at you.” 

Maybe little things, tiny annoyances on nerve-frazzled days or the common day-to-day things you argue and work through and overcome to come back stronger than ever. Nothing that would ever make her really resent him, though. She could tell herself until she was blue in the face they’d only been talking a month and she probably didn’t know him as well as she thought she did, but something was telling her everything with Adam would just make sense.

She honestly never felt like this with anyone before. How could she feel so connected to him when they were still essentially strangers? When they hadn’t even really been dating to begin with?

“Come on,” she turned away, the gift bag and tote bag of leftover goodies in tow. “We should probably get off my parent’s porch.”

“Wait,” he said as she turned to walk away, “we almost forgot...”

“Forgot what?” Ivy looked back at him and saw he’d taken a step to close their distance. She had to tilt her head to look up into his eyes where she saw he was holding a little piece of garland.

“It’s tradition to kiss under mistletoe.” He said.

“Adam…” It was hard to keep herself from giggling. The grin spread and pushed up into her cheeks. “That’s not mistletoe, that’s a piece of fake pine-needle garland I think you stole from my mom’s house.”

“Tomato, tom-ah-to. Maybe I just wanted an excuse to do this...” He leaned down, brushing his lips softly against hers.

Immediately she warmed to his touch, melting against the contact. He took the invitation to sink deeper into their kiss. His hand dropped and found its place on her hip, pulling her tighter against him. The garland had been dropped to the ground, happily forgotten as he ran his tongue between the split of her lips and then sank inside her mouth as she opened with invitation.

The bags fell with a rustle and a thump by her feet and her arms came up quickly around his shoulders, wrapping tightly and pulling him down on her. Their heads moved, matching the shape of their lips better. His fingers squeezed into her hips, the passion mounting further and further the longer their lips touched and tongues stroked.

They broke apart, chests rising and falling quick as they exhaled large, foggy white breaths in the small space between them. All Ivy could taste was him. She felt deliriously dizzy.

“I have been wanting to do that for a long damn time,” he admitted.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I think I broke our rule,” she confessed. They were still holding each other, going nowhere but lost in one another’s eyes.

“Our rule?”

“We weren’t supposed to fall for each other, remember? I’m afraid I might be falling, cowboy.”

A warm smile melted across his face.

“I think I’ve already beat you there.” He bent and, just before his lips touched hers, exhaled his promise across her mouth, “I’ll be ready to catch you, darlin’.”

[notveryglittery]

misc royality #3

summary: patton and roman talk after “putting others first” words: 2k / ship: royality warnings: might come across as a little harsh towards deceit but that’s definitely the author′s bias versus how the characters feel. uh, outburst of emotions, hiding one’s feelings. lmk if there’s anything else. author’s note: BEFORE YOU READ, PLEASE UNDERSTAND THAT THIS IS UNFINISHED!! I DO NOT HAVE PLANS TO FINISH IT!! it stops at a point that can be considered a happy ending, in my opinion, or at the very least hopeful and heading towards resolution. i started writing this on may 11 and have since read too many posts about the episode/royality during or after the episode/etc to feel happy with where i was going here. it has not been beta’d. i hope you enjoy regardless <3

— — —

Okay, so that had gone… about as terribly as it could have.

To be fair! … To be fair, things had been alright for a bit. Patton had genuinely been trying not to force his opinions on anyone else, Thomas had been open to hearing from both of them, and Roman had done his best to reign in the insults. He thought he’d done a pretty good job, standing up for himself while making sure still to support Patton. It hadn’t been easy, sure, wanting to mention how attending the wedding had been a waste, and how they’d have been better off at the callback, and how he wished their court scenario had gone differently, but that… That was all water under the bridge. The bridge might have needed some work, admittedly, given that Roman could feel the heat licking at his heels, but that wasn’t something he could worry about right now.

Right now, all he could worry about was figuring out where he stood on this good versus evil scale. Heh… scale. Yeah, thinking about the reptilian rapscallion was not going to improve his mood. Roman sighed, pushing a hand through his hair, and kicking his boots off the moment he arrived in his room. They disappeared under the bed, which was going to be very annoying when he couldn’t find them tomorrow, but whatever, that was a problem for future Roman. The only problem current Roman had was trying to understand the line between right and wrong.

It was wrong to laugh at Deceit’s name, at… at Janus sharing something important and then throwing it right back in his face. It was right to be selfish, but only sometimes. It was wrong to put others before oneself, but only sometimes. It was right to lie to spare someone’s feelings…

Roman couldn’t remember that being a part of their discussion but like hell he could forget that he was no longer Thomas’ hero. He wasn’t even sure if it would have hurt less, had Thomas been honest about it.

Maybe Janus was wrong, a small traitorous part of him hoped. Maybe something got lost in translation.

Yeah, and maybe he hadn’t been tricked before. He had to keep his guard up now more than ever… Regardless of whether Patton and Thomas trusted Janus, Roman couldn’t… Not after he’d been fooled so many times already.

He’d just been considering disappearing into the Fantasy Realm for an arduous adventure, something to take his mind off of things until he could better process them, when there was a knock at the door.

“Ro, honey?”

Flinching at the simple sound of Patton’s voice was definitely something worth being concerned about, but he shoved it into the pile of things he’d deal with later. Instead, he fluffed his hair and straightened his sash and put on a smile. It stung a little bit, to do so, when all he wanted was to cry, but maybe this wouldn’t take long.

“Evening, buttercup~” Roman sang as he opened the door, “to what do I owe the pleasure?

If Patton seemed put off by his cheery attitude, he didn’t show it. “I wanted to check on you. I know I’m feeling pretty rough after all that. Are you doing okay?”

“First of all, lovebug, you’re always pretty, so jot that down.” Roman was quick to remind, “as for me, you needn’t add anymore stress to your plate by worrying over this silly old prince.”

The smile that twisted Patton’s lips at the compliment was quickly replaced with a pout. He put his hands on his hips and leaned in closer. “Now Roman, you aren’t just some silly old prince. You’re the most handsome prince in the world. I think you’re very sensible and wise.”

“Logan’s room is two doors down.”

Patton scowled. “Is that a self-deprecation in my house, mister?”

Roman pretended to check his fingernails, feigning disinterest. “Technically not your house so… no, not really.”

Patton pulled away. “Is there something you’d like to get off your chest?” His tone was sincere and Roman wanted to scream because he wasn’t sure he could believe it.

“I don’t know, maybe the suffocating weight of having to be perfect for you all? Or could it be the overwhelming guilt at constantly failing to succeed in the only thing I’m good for?” Roman ignored the way his breath hitched, curled his hands into fists to resist tugging at his hair. “It might just as well be the stifling reminder of how easy I am to manipulate! Gee, Patton, I wonder what I could possibly have to be upset about!”

“Oh.”

Roman reeled back, as if he’d been slapped. Immediately, he was sure that he’d overstepped, that he’d fucked up, and that Patton was going to reprimand him for being whiny and dramatic.

“Oh, okay. Okay, hold on.”

Before Roman could realize it was happening, Patton had stepped through the door. He was trailing his fingers through the air, using the power Roman had allowed him over the room to better suit… whatever it was he had planned.

“Forget I said anything,” Roman said, voice catching. He stayed put, gesturing back out to the hallway. “I’m sure you have much more important things to handle.”

The setting sun normally filled the room with a light that was sometimes glaring due to the wall of floor to ceiling windows, but Patton had lessened it by creating sweeping lace curtains. It seemed softer now, warm and gold, almost as if everything wasn’t actually sharp and broken.

“The only thing I care to handle right now,” Patton said, approaching him, “is you.”

He closed the door before taking Roman’s hands in his. Patton’s skin was soft against Roman’s callouses, from years and years of learning how to play instruments and how to sword fight and how to work himself to the point of pain and then to grit his teeth and keep going. He tried so damn hard, all the time. What even was the point?

“Can we have an open, honest talk, please? I want to understand what’s going on.”

Roman laughed, though there was no humor to it. He yanked his hands free. “Sure. Let’s start with that ‘we love you.’ Finding it real hard to believe there was any truth to it.”

Patton looked hurt and some tiny terrible, vindictive part of Roman thought good. He hated himself for it. He let his arms fall to his sides and brushed by Patton.

He took a seat at his desk, which usually doubled as his vanity, and tried not to look at himself in the mirror. Instead, he grabbed the nearest notebook and pen, and began writing. It didn’t matter what made it from his brain to the page, just that it did, and that he had something to do with his hands and his thoughts. It was quiet for a couple of minutes but Roman knew Patton hadn’t left, for the simple sensation that came with another side being in his room. After a little while longer, Patton moved, and Roman heard the shift of blankets. He was glad, at least, that he was being given some space.

“Feel free to stop me at any point, okay?”

Roman gave him a noncommittal shrug.

“I think I know where things got messy. I really have been blind to so much. Sweetpea, I had no idea how badly Janus had been misleading you. And for such a long time… I can’t change the past but I hope in the future, I can help to protect you from these sorts of things. You keep us safe from so much, Roman. You deserve to be kept safe, too.”

Roman’s vision blurred. With shaking hands, he wiped the tears away before they could fall. He waited until the trembling subsided before speaking. “That’s very kind, dearheart, but I don’t need protecting. I can take care of myself.”

“That doesn’t mean you should have to do it alone.”

“It’s the only way I know how,” Roman said with a hollow laugh.

He finally looked up from his notebook and into the mirror. His eyes were rimmed red and he could see Patton in the reflection, twisting his hands and frowning. The glass went black at Roman’s will and he shoved away from the desk. He turned and took in his room to see what else Patton had done with it. Along with the curtains, he’d added extra strings of fairy lights and piles of pillows on the bed. Now that he was paying attention, Roman noticed the wood floor had been swapped out for plush carpet. It was all exceedingly comfortable.

Lacking the energy to go through the whole process of undressing, Roman snapped his fingers and changed into clean pajamas. Patton smiled hesitantly and did the same. A box also appeared beside him.

“I want to show you a few things. Can we cuddle?”

Roman wasn’t sure how he’d react to being touched right now but there was only one way to find out. They situated themselves in bed, sitting up against the wall with pillows at their backs. Patton stacked the extras at their sides and under their arms; Roman brushed a hand through Patton’s hair as he placed the box on top of his legs. It was cardboard and had been colored all over, decorated with stickers and glitter. On the lid, Roman’s name was written in bubbly rounded letters, surrounded by stars and hearts.

“What’s this?”

Patton opened it and reached in, blindly taking something out. It was easily recognizable for the big font written across it. Christmas Carol. The I was dotted with a star and the O wore mouse ears. Each of the C’s hosted Santa hats and beards.

God, that looks ridiculous. What were you thinking? Roman thought. All the time he’d spent had been a waste once it had become clear how little the others cared. The blatant disregard for their parts and who all they belonged to; that wasn’t even covering how they’d torn him down for (admittedly, he understood now) Virgil’s single line.

“You worked so hard on this, remember?” Patton said, voice heavy with nostalgia. His expression was fond. “It was so much fun to sing.”

“Oh, definitely. Everyone changing the lyrics was my favorite part.” Roman snapped, taking the script and throwing it across the room. There was no noise indicating that it had landed and he assumed Patton had returned it to the box.

Undeterred, he reached in again and this time, it took Roman a moment to realize what it was. A copy of the cast list from the final high school play Thomas had been in. He’d scored the lead role. Roman had been ecstatic; he’d ridden that high for weeks afterwards. Memorizing the lines had been effortless and it’d been so easy to play their part. All of the late nights after rehearsal, 2am at Denny’s, syrupy sweet memories full of laughter and friendship. He took the paper delicately from Patton. Thomas had even gotten it laminated, so that nothing bad could ever happen to it.

“That was a really nice day,” Patton said quietly. “And every day after that. Going over the lines with you felt like such a big deal. I thought I was so clumsy but you still picked me.”

“You were so supportive.” Roman muttered, trying not to trip over the past tense.

The sound of sloshing liquid suddenly had Roman looking to Patton, confused. There was a snow globe in his hand, which he held out on his palm so they could see the scene inside. It was of Elsa and Anna, the former creating the snow flurry that would bring Olaf back to life.

“I promise you that I still am,” Patton told him, in a tone so genuine that Roman wondered how he could ever doubt it to begin with. “You create such beautiful, wonderful, amazing things. I’m proud of them all.”

He tilted the box so that Roman could see better into it. It should have been filled to the brim, with the number of trinkets inside, but it looked well organized. He couldn’t even begin to guess how many scripts, stories, and pieces of artwork Patton had collected.

“Is this a Mary Poppins bag?” He asked teasingly.

“Yes,” Patton responded seriously.

Roman watched as he stuck his hand in and passed all the visible clutter. His arm disappeared up to the elbow as he stuck his tongue out in concentration. Roman found it utterly adorable. When Patton apparently found what he was looking for, he gave a victorious cheer and yanked hard. Somehow, nothing else was jostled; it all sat safely, nestled together with the utmost care.

In Patton’s palm now was a sunset pink orb. It shimmered regardless of light or motion and despite not holding it himself, Roman felt warm from its presence alone.

“What’s that?” He spoke quietly without realizing it, as if any loud noise would shatter the moment.

“I have one of these for every Occasion. They aren’t always this pretty.” Patton’s smile went a little sad before he continued. “It’s important to remember, regardless. Sometimes, it’s just a few minutes. Other times, it’s a whole day.”